


Maybe this Time

by MissInComplete



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissInComplete/pseuds/MissInComplete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes has his eye on one of Sherlock's friends.<br/>(Awful at summaries - take a look if you like slow burning Mollcroft)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Maybe this Time?**

_Heathens - Twenty one Pilots_

_Mycroft Holmes has had his eye on a certain friend of Sherlock s.  
Lightly Mollcroft_

_A/N - Mollcroft is one of my weaknesses and I couldn't resist! I'm not sure where this is going, It started as a oneshot but it seems to have shifted._

* * *

_'Miss Hooper get in the car - MH'_

Molly looked at her phone and frowned. For someone who is the very epitome of British-ness, Mycroft Holmes had no manners. He sends his PA into St Barts whenever he pleases and just expects Molly to be available.

Well, not this time. No, Miss Hooper is busy today. Molly thought as she replaced her gloves.

Enough was enough, she was getting tired at being at the beckon call of the Holmes brothers. Sherlock is the reason she was working late in the first place! There was a body that just couldn t wait! She huffed out a strained sigh. 'Of course it could wait! It wasn t getting any deader!' She smiled a little to herself and carried on with her work.

"You can tell your boss that I'm busy and I'll be available in a few hours, if its important." She said, not looking up, as the doors to the path lab opened. "In fact, he could just come down here himself, save all this messing around I mean, surely it d be easier for him to just come here and say whatever he needs to say this time? Does he have to pay you for this extra activity? I bet it wasn't in your job description Hm?... Yes, much easier if he came himself, instead of abducting people..."  
That told her, and Him!

No reply. Ugh, this was infuriating, Antyhea was just as rude as Mycroft! 'I wonder if being a rude, snotty madam was in her job description?' Molly thought, and smiled to herself. She stopped her work, pulled her goggles above her head and snapped off her gloves.

"Something amusing, Miss Hooper? Do tell." Molly visibly jumped as her head snapped in the direction of the voice that definitely wasn't Anthea's.

Mycroft Holmes was leaning on his umbrella leisurely. He wore a fine coat covering his suit, the coat looked a little damp so it must be raining out. As she took him in, he stood very still. It wasn't until Molly's eyes met with Mycroft's that he began to speak, eyebrow slowly raising.  
"Don't care to share? Hm, a pity. As it happens, a 'few hours time' isn't suitable for me. So we'll have this chat. Now."

Molly stood perfectly still. Eyes wide.  
She was trying to recall what exactly she'd been saying while she cussed into the corpse of the latest victim. Heat rose in her cheeks, normally Mycroft didn't rattle her. But normally Mycroft didn't show up at her work in the middle of the night after a 12-hour shift and catch her bad mouthing him.  
'He's waiting for me to say something. Say something! Oh come on!' Molly s mind raced as she composed herself.  
She cleared her throat, "Hello Mr Holmes." Very smooth Molly.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, looking awfully put out. He removed his coat and placed it on the stool next to the door.  
"Miss Hooper, I am a very busy man, if you could keep up with the conversation it would be most helpful." He smiled, but it wasn t a sweet smile. It was the sort of smile you'd want to smack right off his face.

Molly's eyes narrows, now composed, she was back to being tired and irritable. "I was busy myself, Mr Holmes, I don't typical work 18 hour days. Do excuse me if i continue working while you share whatever it is you've come here to share." Molly snapped. She placed her goggles back on and then her gloves.

A little affronted, though you'd never tell, Mycroft watched Molly begin work again and said nothing for a few moments.  
She looked tired. Very, very tired. And incredibly fed up. Whenever he usually crossed Molly's path she was her usual 'chipper'-and-bland self no matter what the crisis. And now here she was being, what he could only describe as, snarky and downright stand offish.

"When did you last sleep, or even eat, Miss Hooper?" Molly almost dropped the kidney she was extracting.

"What?"

"You're not hard of hearing Miss Hooper, I've read your file."

"File..? Of course, there s a file." She mumbled. It was now Molly's turn to roll her eyes. "Mr Holmes, you didn't come here to ask about my lunch so if you cou-"

"Lunch"

"Yes, Lunch. Happy? Now if that s all you come to ask then you've had a pointless journey and you're not all as busy as you make out." Molly huffed, placing the liver sample down and staring at Mycroft defiantly.

"As it happens, that isn't what I came to discuss, but you need to take better care of yourself. Sherlock won't be happy if anything happens to you." The colour rose in her cheeks and she busied herself again. She knew Sherlock and her weren't ever going to be an item, not really. Ghost kisses and long nights are one thing, but an actual relationship with Sherlock Holmes is impossible. She'd accepted it long ago, and although it doesn't change her feelings for him, it certainly puts them in perspective. She would always love the youngest Holmes brother but never more than a very, very good friend.

"Look, Mr Holmes, we both have things we'd rather be doing at this late hour so why are you here? Do you need some body parts too?" Molly looked every bit of her exhausted state and once again removed the goggles and gloves and sat down heavily on a stool nearby.

Mycroft had noted the shift in her relationship with Sherlock a few months back, but he was also aware that despite everything, they cared for each other deeply, and it was his responsibility as a big brother to ensure everyone his brother cared about was looked after. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message.  
By the time Mycroft looked back up, Molly had her eyes closed and was asleep where she sat.  
He sat and stared at her for a few moments. She never did answer the question of sleep.

* * *

Molly woke with a start, her heart raced when she didn't instantly recognise her room.  
Which wasn't her room, it was a lab.  
A lab at St Barts. 'What the bloody hell...?' Then remembered.  
She was working late on a body and Mycroft had shown up. Mycroft. She'd fallen asleep chatting to Mycroft. Now he probably thought she was a right dolt. Not that he probably thought much of her in the first place...  
Her hands covered her face as she groaned.

"Ah, you're awake Miss Hooper. Good, now maybe we can finish our 'chat'?" Mycroft took sordid delight in the shock on her face as she nearly fell off of her stool.

Molly settled herself again and looked at the clock. Five am. Five am and Mycroft was still sitting in this lab, waiting.  
When she finally took a look at Mycroft he had removed his blazer and had acquired a laptop and was working across the lab on god only knows what.  
"I thought you were in a rush, Mr Holmes, why are you still here?" She stretched and let out a small sound like a kitten s meow and stood, she was more than a little embarrassed about the whole situation but she wasn't awake enough to care. She needed coffee, and something to eat.

He closed the laptop and raised an eyebrow at her, he held her eyes for a moment then said, "I know you weren't present for majority of the conversation last night but if you recall we never actually finished it. Your self-neglect took over and you inconveniently passed out." And there was the Holmes charm she knew so well. She blushed again as she moved across the lab to tidy the mess she made last night to find that it had all been organised, put away and cleaned up.

"There s coffee and breakfast in the canteen when you are ready to continue." He swept out of the room with his coat over his arm.

Had Mycroft Holmes brought her breakfast? She giggled a little at the thought then realised, she thought the weight on her shoulders was her lab coat but it was actually a blazer. A very expensive and beautiful blazer. Mycroft Holmes had sat with her for a few hours while she slept, finished up her work and cleaned up, covered her with his blazer and brought her breakfast.

What in the world was happening?

* * *

A/N So I have no idea where this is going just yet, its definitely Mollcroft though ;)

Let me know what you think!

_"One can't plan for the unexpected" - Anon_


	2. Mycroft's Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's POV

**Maybe this Time**

**Mycroft's Reflection**

A/N Thanks for the views, followers and things :) Spurred me on to get another chapter up. If you like this fic you might like my other, its Mycroft again and called Make the Call.

* * *

Mycroft reached the canteen with ease and sat at the table where he could best see the entire room. A habit he'd acquired through years of negotiations gone wrong. He could now see all three exits and subconsciously noted that the CCTV was streaming to his phone and a few other remote locations. He placed his jacket to the right of him and waited.

With his hands together in front of his mouth, fingers slowly grazing his lips, he reflected on night he'd spent in the path lab with a sleeping Miss Hooper.

He watched her sleep for a while, once of course, he'd gotten over the minor inconvenience she'd caused by going to sleep in the first place. The text he had sent while she nodded off had been to request food for them both. He hadn't eaten since lord knows when and he thought it just made sense, and he has found in his experience people are always more agreeable on a full stomach. He sent another text and postponed their meals arrival but had a tea brought through to the labs for him as well as a team to help him set about saving Miss Hooper's work before it went 'off' or whatever dead items do.

Anthea arrived within 15 minutes with two men in plastic overalls and a flask of tea. She set the men about their task and handed Mycroft his drink.

"Negotiations didn't go as planned, then?" Anthea observed in a hushed tone.

He despised drinking his tea out of anything that wasn't a fine cup but beggars can t be choosers and he was very grateful to have the beverage on hand. It was getting late, or early, he supposed, depending on your thoughts. He had a terrible migraine brewing but tomorrow he had a later start for his schedule so he was trying to dismiss all signs of his weakened condition. As if Anthea could read Mycroft s mind, she produced two tablets and popped them on the table next to his hand, never once removing her eyes from her phone.

He scoffed, but took the pills and swallowed them. "Who could you possibly be messaging at this hour, especially when I am seated right beside you?" A smirk on his lips, he was only baiting her out of annoyance and boredom and didn't expect a response at all.

She slowed her typing down and flicked her eyes upwards, noted he was being as jovial as Mycroft Holmes got and responded in kind. "Have you noticed the time, Mr Holmes? I consider myself off duty and that being said my off duty interests are interested in where I have disappeared to in the middle of the night." She rolled her eyes and continued to type.

Ah, he'd yet again ruined a quiet night in for her. "Go home Anthea, I'll see you at 11 am sharp tomorrow morning."

"Sir, I was jus-" Anthea went to explain that she was just matching his tone, she didn't want him to think she minded her work.

"I am not offended." He added, leaning back slightly eyes closed and his strong hands cradling his tea. "I am merely telling you to go back off duty. You've done as I asked, now you can go. Be sure to send a breakfast order through to the canteen for 5 am. Good night Anthea."

Without another word, her heels could be heard climbing up the steps and down the corridor.

He sighed and briefly watched the clear up team organise and store the body Miss Hooper was working on and save the parts she separated. 'What could Sherlock possibly want with these body parts?' Mycroft made a mental note to speak to his dear brother when the time became available. His experiments and treatment of Miss Hooper were down right disgusting. He was sure she hadn't slept in at least 48 hours judging from the state of her and her sudden collapse into sleep. Sherlock shouldn't be pushing her so hard. Surely he can see she'd put herself through hell for him. But he supposed that was the point, Sherlock could see that and that s exactly why he did it.

Sometimes the Holmes brothers need reminding that not everyone functions like them. Their work, to them both, is a drug and so they'll do anything to see it through. But ordinary people they need a break, they need time to recuperate before the mission was complete. They don t cope very well pushing themselves so hard for long periods of time. He began to wonder how long Molly had been pushing before this moment, so long that it had become normal and not even her friends or family had noticed a change?

Family are distant and friends are all weak to the psychotic whims of his brother so maybe that explains it.

He glanced at her again and decided she isn't terribly unattractive. She has a pleasant face and very bright eyes. Her hair is darker than he recalled and she isn t as bland as he remembered. She s a very ordinary sort of pretty, really. The tired dark circles around her eyes didn't suit her, nor did the pale tone of her skin. Her body, his eyes trailed down slowly and back up again. 'Nothing wrong there' He thought appreciatively.

He snapped at himself. 'Now stop it. There is nothing mildly attractive about Sherlock s drab, bland pathologist! And yet...' He felt a stirring he hadn t indulged in a long time. 'Stop. Stop it now. Right, work.' He glanced around, the team were doing their final sweep and he dismissed them swiftly. He noticed Molly shifting in her seat, eyebrows drawn together, and her hands pulling at her lab coat. Mycroft watched a second and decided it was the cold that was bothering her. He slipped off his blazer and lightly placed it on her shoulders so as not to disturb her, what she did next left him baffled.

Miss Hooper stilled suddenly and took a deep breath. A smile crept onto her lips and she adjusted the coat in order for her to tuck her face into it and again she breathed deeply. Her frame was the most relaxed he had seen since he'd came in here hours ago. What did he deduce from that?

It was best for Mycroft not to think on this too long, she was obviously cold before he arrived, lack of sleep can do that to a person, and his blazer did the trick. That's all.

Yes, that s all. Now for a distraction, Molly had an hour or so left before he would have breakfast prepared and so he collected a laptop that was in the corner and began to do some light reading until Miss Hooper came to.

And came to she did, almost right on schedule. When he greeted her she jumped visibly and the darker part of him thoroughly enjoyed seeing her so off balance.

He left her off kilter with a smirk and expected her to come through the second exit of the canteen in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

Where the bloody hell was she?

* * *

A/N And there we have it, chapter 2 in the series of Maybe this Time! Let me know what you think!


	3. Toby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final to the point.

**Maybe this Time**

**Toby**

A/N Slowburning Mollcroft, he finally gets to the point.

* * *

Molly had taken the phrase 'When you are ready' quite literally.  
She hadn't showered in over 24 hours now and she always felt rotten and grubby after work at the best of times so now she felt particularly disgusting.

She headed to the lockers and pulled out her emergency overnight bag and set to work on the task of making herself feel more human. She only took a around 15 minutes washing her hair and scrubbing her body, which on reflection isnt long at all, especially for a woman. She was dried and dressed quickly and plated her hair and placed it in a neat bun. As she gathered her belongings together her hand fell on Mr Holmes blazer.

'He's rather sweet, really.' She thought, smiling as she held it in her hands, not that she'd ever tell him that. He'd tell her she was being ridiculous and send her on her way. But that was okay, she was happy for it to be a little secret for now. She sighed, 'Much better' She smiled loosely to herself in the mirror and set off to the canteen.

On her way to the canteen, Molly realised she was nervous. 'What a bizarre time to get nervous! You've sat with Mycroft many times and spoken to him alone before, why are you being so silly?' She scolded herself mildly and tried to dismiss the body wrestling butterflies in her stomach. She fiddled with her lap coat a little and adjusted her top. 'Stop it, you dope.'

When she entered through the doors, Mycroft Holmes was on the phone and pacing. He looked every bit as formidable as she knew him to be. She quietly made her way to the table he was standing near. He spotted her and has expression became lighter for a moment, he half bowed, gesturing for her to sit at the table and then resumed his phone conversation in a hushed tone. Molly felt uncomfortable, like she was interrupting and clutched his blazer on her and focused on the buttons and texture, trying her hardest to not exist for a moment. Mycroft raised his voice but she had no idea what he was saying, she was sure in was in a language she didn't know. What she did know, however, was that she wouldn't ever like to be the reason Mycroft Holmes lost his temper.

Molly glanced at him through hooded lids and took him in. He really was the epitome of poise and refinement. In the modern world with such casual ways he upheld formality and manners, when he wanted to, at least. His waist coat and shirt matched perfectly and fitted him like a glove. He really was a handsome man, really. And she couldn't deny the power that illuminated from him was incredibly attractive. Even if he was an arse.

Once he'd hung up, he let out a small exasperated noise as his eyes glazed over. He appeared to be clentching his teeth but it was hard to say when Molly wouldn't actually look up to look him in the eye. Within a second he had slipped to his neutral mask and came to join her at the table.

"I apologise for that Miss Hooper, even at this hour it's hard to get any peace. Rather rude really when I'm already engaged.." He sat with the grace of a cat and watched her intently.

"Oh I know what you mean, its busy in here at all hours, it seems even the dead don't really rest." She smiled cheerfully.

Mycroft made a small affirmative noise and then said "Not that you seemed to be in any rush to join me?" his eyebrow raised and eyes flared for a second while Molly stopped and looked like a deer caught in the head lights.

"Oh, erm, sorry its just-" Molly stuttered, anxiety rising. She have given anything to be grumpy like last night, she'd have handled this much better. "I didn't mean to delay you- I needed to wake up, I- i- erm..." 'Molly pull yourself together -he interrupted your work for a 'chat' and its been hours and he still hasn't gotten to his point.' Molly took a deep breath to try again to explain but Mycroft raised his hand and rolled his eyes, "No matter."

He then gestured to the plates and two flasks, labelled 'Tea' and 'Coffee', on the table. "Please, help yourself. You haven't eaten in much too long and I think its addling your brain. We'll resume once we're done then I shall be on my way.'

Molly nodded and pulled the plate towards her. She was starving and a coffee sounded good too. Mycroft wasn't as nearly as enthusicatic about breakfast and he picked at some toast while Molly 'inhaled' hers. Not a word was spoken during their meal, not that Molly minded, she could do uncomfortable silence just as well as Mycroft could.

Mycroft glanced at his pocket watch and again back to Molly who was now nursing a steaming cup of coffee, looking much more human and a lot more relaxed. "Now, in reference to my presence here, I need to ask a favour."

Molly's head shot up from here chest and again she looked completely bewildered, what could she possibly do for Mycroft Holmes?

"Don't overthink it Miss Hooper, I will explain somewhat." He leaned back in his chair, looking as comfortable as she imagined Mycroft Holmes could. "I need to borrow you for an evening, Friday specifically. I can't tell you many details as to the event I need you for, right here and now, but do know that John Watson and his wife will be in attendance."

Molly listened carefully, considering the few details she had been given, and noting that Sherlock hadn't been mentioned. She wanted to question it but had a feeling that it would be part of the 'things I can not disclose right now' list. "So all of this to ask me to go out with you for an evening?" Molly chuckled, "Surely this could have been cleared up last night and you wouldn't have had a sleepless night in a path' lab?"

Mycroft wasn't amused, "Yes, of course, I should have come straight in, insist you be available Friday night for an evening with me and totally neglected to notice how little you've been looking after yourself recently." His frown evident and his tone tight. "Miss Hooper, if I had of done that I doubt you would have made it to Friday, let alone felt like an evening out."

Molly laughed out loud, "Oh really Mr Holmes, you make it sound like I was closer to being a resident in the morgue than just working in it. I've just had a few bad nights and busy, long days. Nothing more. It happens sometimes. I'll be right as rain once I have a day off with Toby and spend it on the sofa watching awful TV." She placed her now empty cup down and smiled at him. "Yes, by the way, whatever Friday is, I'll be there."

Mycroft visibly tensed during her little monologue and raised an eyebrow, "Wonderful. Though, surely agreeing to pose as a date for another man would need to be ran by your 'Toby' would it not?" 'Have some respect women.' Mycroft had seriously misjudged her if she was so happy to play house with another man while hers waited for her at home. Then again, she has been doing the same for Sherlock since lord knows when. If he were her partner he would have put his foot down and told her how unacceptable an- hang on, did she just snort?

Mycroft was pulled from his internal debate by a very delirious Molly Hooper. He watched, shocked, while she laughed until she was red in the face. "Miss Hooper, Miss Hooper! MISS HOOPER! Do try to control yourself! What is it you find so funny?" He couldn't have been more confused or frustrated.

"I am sorry Mycroft." She managed to get out. "Its, its just," She took a deep breath and said "Toby, isn't my partner, or flat mate or what have you. He's my cat." She smiled. It grew as she threatened to explode again at the look on Mycroft's face.

'Of course its her cat, he knew that, he KNEW that. He must be tired, thats it.' Mycroft stood abruptly and gathered his coat. "Of course. Until Friday then Miss Hooper." And walked swiftly out of St Barts, and didnt look back.

If he had, he would have seen a conflicted Molly Hooper, smiling to herself despite the swift departure, looking and feeling much better for the time with Mycroft than she had in a long time.

* * *

Isn't Mycroft silly when hes tired? The sensitive man.


	4. Blazer set the forest ablaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's deductions

**Maybe this Time**

**A/N Thanks for the interest and feedback :)**

* * *

That day had gone quite as normal for Molly, once the elder Holmes brother had left at least. A team popped by shortly after Mycroft left and gathered the breakfast things without a word to Molly, but she didn't mind, they work for Mycroft so there was probably some rule about talking or breathing too loud.  
She had a few hours before she was due back on duty at St Barts so she got back to work on the body Sherlock needed 'right away.'

Honestly, he was such a pain sometimes. If she had known it could have waited until this morning she could have gone home last night and just gotten up early!

She snapped on a pair of gloves and goggles on and got back to dissecting the body. 'Although,' she mused, 'If she had of gone home last night, would she have had the interesting time with Mycroft? Probably. On second thoughts, because he needed to asked her something and obviously felt it was urgent so he'd had turned up to the flat.' She paused in her work for a moment, 'Mycroft Holmes at my flat? Would he have still spent the night if she had fallen asleep?' Molly found the idea of Mycroft at her place didn't seem to bother her as much as she thought it would. 'He was nice, a little rude and short at times but nothing compared to Sherlock... Sherlock, no nothing like him.' And that was probably a good thing.

She checked the list Sherlock had set and made sure she had all the parts. Just then, the devil himself strode in, a sleepy John trailing behind.

"Good morning Sherlock." She said cheerfully, "Yes its all there, but get it out of here soon, I'll have a hard time explaining it this time. There's barely a body left. Morning John."

John gave a sleep smile and propped himself up at a lab table, eyes half shut. "Morning Mol'." Followed by a yawn. Sherlock's lack of need for sleep never really suited John.

"Hmm. Yes but its for science, she should be thrilled her carcass is useful now." Sherlock said as he gathered his new 'toys', excited like a child in a sweet shop.

"Sherlock, you shouldn't be so rude about the dead." Molly halfheartedly and half absent mindedly scolded him. It was more out of habit than anything, he'd made it quite clear that the dead can't hear him so why bother being nice about them? Not that Sherlock was particularly nice about anyone anyway.

Just then Molly's phone buzzed. Sherlock watched her briefly as she smiled a little at the screen and glanced over at the blazer John now had his head resting on.

'Good morning Miss Hooper. I never thought you'd be so light fingered. - MH'

'To you too, Mr Holmes. You must be referring to the blazer that *you* forgot to take with you. Yes its here. - MH"

'Hm, our initials are the same.' Molly observed lightly then placed her phone back in her lab coat. She met Sherlock's eye, but couldn't read anything from him. He glided round to John and swiftly pulled the blazer from under his head. Johns face hit the surface with a thud and he groaned, "Bloody hell Sherlock!" and a few cuss words. He rubbed his face then propped his head back up on his hand and closed is eyes again.

"Why, oh why, is my big brothers blazer here in your possession?" Sherlock asked accusingly, he held it in the air like it might be covered in something particularly foul. He then looked at Molly. His face tight and frown deep. "You spent the night here with my brother. Does he have a memento of yours too?"

John smiled, "Sherlock, stop being so ridiculous, is that even-"

Sherlock didn't look away from Molly, "Shut it, John. Yes its Mycroft's and yes he spent the night here, in this room, with Molly." Sherlock sounded upset, but not close to tears. He was angry.

John looked baffled, "Molly, seriously?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, she moved to take the blazer from Sherlock, "Yes, Mr Holmes was here-" Molly began.

Sherlock took the opportunity to get very close to Molly's face. "Don't 'Mr Holmes' me, you must be on better terms than that now." Sherlock threw the blazer on the desk. "A night in the path lab, I must say his standards have slipped, nothings gold plated and there's no food in here. And you, Molly, whatever it is you 'got up to' required you to shower here afterwards. Are you really that lonely you'd sleep with-"

"Sherlock!" Both John and Molly snapped, she was close to tears at the sudden venom he used, "Your brother really is the smart one, isn't he? Because if you'd been paying the blindest bit of attention you'd know I haven't had time to go home in over 36 hours because I've been here, working, for you! I feel asleep and your brother hung around to make sure I was okay. He's been a better friend in 6 hours than you have in years!"

John had gotten up and put an arm around Molly's shoulder as she composed herself, glaring at Sherlock, he mouthed 'Not Good.' and held her a little tighter.

Sherlock took a moment and then said, "Mycroft doesn't have friends, Molly. If he was here and 'caring' it was to use you for something. Don't be so blind. He doesn't do 'care'." Sherlock had lost a little momentum now but still remained stern and tense. Molly was his. His friend. His lab partner. His. And Mycroft should keep well away.

"It seems to be a Holmes trait then." Molly commented snidely. "You've got what you came for now leave. I have work to do." She gave John a brief hug and a peck on the cheek then gathered the blazer and left the two men in the lab.

Molly had no idea where she was heading just now, her work was actually in the lab but she couldn't hang around waiting out Sherlock's stubbornness so she head to the bathroom instead. She splashed her face and calmed herself down. 'Mycroft didn't need to hang around last night, he really could have made a short visit, couldn't he? Yes he had popped by for a favour but.. It doesn't matter. Not really. Sherlock just doesn't want his brother near one of 'his'- what? Friend? He has a funny way of showing it. Possessive arse..'

Just then her phone vibrated and it was Mycroft, and apparently he'd texted a few times.

'I know it's there, Miss Hooper. I'll be by the collect it shortly if it suits? - MH'

'Miss Hooper, not replying doesn't mean you can keep your ill-gotten prize. - MH'

'A joke, Miss Hooper. I'll be but a few moments. - MH'

And the most recent text;

'Get in the car. Bring the blazer. - MH'

Holmes men! At least Mycroft started out polite, she supposed. She made her way up the stairs and down to the main entrance of St Bart's just in time to catch Sherlock being led down the road by John, away from Mycroft and the black car resting on the curb.

Sherlock must have bumped into Mycroft as he left the labs, 'Just what you need, more smoke without fire. Oh no, scratch that, no doubt now there was a whole forest ablaze if smug look on Mycroft's face was anything to go by.' Molly couldn't help but smile a little. Will these boys ever grow up?

Oh Mycroft did love goading his little brother.

He was leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette, smirking in the direction the two friends had just gone. Once he spotted her he dropped the end and opened the door all in one swift movement and merely raised an eyebrow.

"Miss Hooper."


	5. Forced Formality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a little drive

Maybe this time

Forced Formality

A/N Next chapter up for Maybe this Time. Hope you like it! Let me know what you think please :)

* * *

Molly climbed into to the black car and moved across. Mycroft took a moment before getting in the car, making sure Sherlock and John had left before he settled inside. Though, having Sherlock see them drive off together would have made his day. Sherlock was very annoyed that he and his 'friend' had spent time together, alone, and anything that lightly annoyed Sherlock was definitely worth considering, and giving Sherlock and John a wave as he passed with Miss Hooper beside him could be very enjoyable. He smiled a little as he sat down next to her, shutting the door and instructing the car to simple 'Drive'.

A moment of silence passed as Mycroft seemed to be smirking slightly to himself while Molly fidgeted in the seat next to him. "Did Sherlock give you any trouble when he came out?"

Mycroft adjusted his coat and crossed his long legs at the ankle. Leaning back, his smirk grew a little as he met your eyes. "Oh, he tried. He tried very hard. He had some interesting 'deductions' as to what occurred last night. I politely told him to mind his own business. That *his* pathologist could do as she pleased with whom she pleased whenever she liked. He positively fumed. It seems you may have told him something very similar." His eyebrow raised as he watched her.

"Oh. Oh no, well yes. I did but i tried to clear it up first. He was just so rude and..." She dropped her gaze and stared at her shoes. "He made some pretty large leaps of the imagination and he wasn't very tactful sharing them..." Molly blushed and avoided his piercing eyes.

"So I heard." He relied absently, smirking still. "He shared a few before Dr Watson had the good sense to take him away." A pause then, he spun his umbrella slowly, one way then another. "No matter. He should really pay more attention instead of letting his 'feelings' cloud his judgement." He spoke of feelings like it might be something terribly contagious.

"Feelings?" Molly's brow creased, she let out a dark huff, "His feelings for me are that of a very helpful possession whom he'd have a hard time getting body parts without, thats all." Mycroft watched intently, eye brow raised, "It's a shame really. I really consider him a great friend. One I could never do without and here he is treating me like an object, like I have no feelings. I'm just a segway to what he really wants." She sniffed a little. "I'm sorry, I just, well... you know Sherlock..."

"I do indeed. He is terribly ignorant at times." Mycroft handed Molly an embroidered handkerchief. "He's an idiot, Miss Hooper."

"Molly. Please, you've seen me in some states the last day or so, surely that warrants using my first name." She said with empty humour as she dabbed her eyes.

He paused a moment, Molly panicked, 'Oh well done. You've scared off the man who actually treats you like a lady. Hell, even a person.' "If its too soon or something then please call me what ever you feel comfortable with, I just thought... Well. It seems sensible, if we're to see each other Friday and-"

"Molly. It's alright. Stop, please." Mycroft raised his hand and looked amused. "It seems appropriate that you must call me by mine then."

Molly blushed, 'oh don't be so ridiculous! He'd being polite! You practically forced him into offering you his first name!' "Mycroft." She gave a small smile and a little nod. Another moment passed.

"Sherlock upset you earlier with his comments." Mycroft offered the statement but not as a question, he knew he was right. The sudden stop in texts along with his brothers unhappy departure could only mean she was unhappily distracted. That, and he had tapped into the CCTV in the lab when Molly had stopped replying.

Molly took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "He did. He can be so, so harsh sometimes. He was lashing out in temper when he heard you had spent time with me in the lab but that seems like a very small reason to suddenly get so down right nasty." Mycroft appeared to be listening intently so she continued, "I mean, I talk to people all day. Yes most of them are dead, I know." She rolled her eyes, "But I mean Lestrade comes in quite frequently and chats with me, about work or his wife. Ex wife? Lord knows on that front... And Sherlock has never once threw his toys of the pram over it all."

"Ah, well, that would be because Lestrade is not his older brother." Mycroft explained, amusement swimming in his eyes, "Sherlock never did like to share what was *his*." The smirk slowly slid into a frown and his eyes let out the far away look, as Molly liked to call it. She liked this look. It meant whatever the other person was thinking was personal and usually raw. And raw meant real. There were so many masks and false faces now days. It was comforting to be reminded that people, even the Holmes men, who denied all knowledge of emotion, had that to them, especially when you worked with the dead day in and day out.

The car came to a stop just outside St Barts again. Molly climbed out of the car, not sure how to end the encounter, she smiled, "See you Friday, Mycroft."

"Until then, Molly." He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. A brief kiss rested on her knuckles and it was over in a flash. But for Molly it happened in slow motion, her insides felt like they had melted at such a lovely formal gesture. She was positively beaming when she made her way back towards the tall doors of the hospital.

"Molly." Mycroft called from the car, his window was winding down. She turned and flashed him a confused but happy smile with a small crease in her brow. He held out his hand and said nothing more, just tilted his head towards her and raised both eye brows expectantly.

Molly was baffled at the gesture but realised she had been clinging to his blazer the entire time and had, once again, forgotten to give it back. She blushed a deep red colour, she was sure, as she trotted back towards the car and handed it over. "Oops." She laughed lightly, "Sorry about that. What will people think, seeing me handing you your clothing back out in the open?" 'Nothing, Molly, because its just a jacket and not everyone is as paranoid or eccentric as Sherlock Holmes, now shut up!'

Mycroft watched the little internal struggle and decided to end it. "They may think that I've caught a very light fingered woman in the act and she is being made to return the things she has purloined." His eyebrow coupled with the smirk made her heart flutter. "But then, knowing who they are dealing with, they would conclude I wouldn't let her off so lightly... She would need to be taught a lesson." The entire line delivered with locked eyes, his voice low and suggestive.

The moment had passed in a second and he had already started to wind up the window once more. "Good bye Molly. I look forward to Friday."

Molly stood on the steps of St Barts for several minutes, her stomach in knots as she began to think about the mystery and beauty that was Mycroft Holmes.

* * *

A/N Reviews are exchanged for love in your general direction ;)


	6. Mash Me

**Maybe this Time**

**Mash Me**

A/N - Thanks for the reviews and things! Hello to the followers!

* * *

Friday rolled around quickly for Molly, not that she was counting the hours or anything. That morning, she was at work until 12PM, she'd gotten the early shift so at 11.45am when a Greg Lestrade walked through she door she stomach dropped. Greg was a wonderful, low maintenance friend but whenever he come in you could guarantee she would be busy for another few hours to be an agony aunt or to work over a few bodies with him.

"Morning Mol'." Greg sat down on one of the stools in the lab as she washed her hands and removed her lab coat. A few subtle 'I leave work very shortly' hints wouldn't hurt. "Off duty, are you?"

"Yeah, well almost." She smiled, "Simon should be in around somewhere so he should be able to find the body you need."

"Oh no, that's fine...fine." He paused and then said, "I'm off duty too now, so do wanna' grab a coffee on the way home? I'd usually say pub but before noon looks bad." A gave a small sigh, and soft smile.

Molly mentally went through her timetable in her head of what she needed to do in order to get ready for tonight, one coffee shouldn't delay her too much. And if Greg has come and asked he must need the chat. "Yeah, sure. Why not? I'll just grab my things."

* * *

Molly and Greg were seated in a little booth at the cafe round the corner from her flat. She'd finished her coffee and sat listening to Greg as he finished up his final tail of woe. "-And then she slammed the door and took off." He and his wife has been in a turbulent relationship for years but he seemed convince that this was it this time. She had been back last week to collect her things and left her key to the house on the table with a colourful note. "She stopping at her sisters apparently." He looked like he needed every grain of coffee from the large mug he'd ordered.

"Oh Greg... Well maybe its for the best? I mean, you can look forward to meeting someone new now." Ever the optimist Molly placed a hand on his arm and gave a little squeeze. "Everything happens for a reason, and you're a lovely charming man. You'll be on a date in now time."

He glanced at her hand on his arm and then looked at her, a smile on his lips. "Yeah.. You're right I guess." He took her hand in his. "You're a good friend Mol'."

She blushed a little, "I should be seeing John and Mary soon so I could talk to them and see if they know anyone? I'm sure John has some dating tips too!" Molly's smile widened. Just then she caught sight of the clock. "Oh god!" She quickly gathered her things, "I'm sorry Greg, I've got to dash. Plans for later and I need time to get ready."

"Oh, right, yes. Sure. Date night?"

"Ah, oh, something like that." Molly stumbled, right now she didn't actually know what it was she had agreed to, she just knew it was an evening event so she must need to do the usual 'evening' prep.

"Oh... Well, enjoy. I'll catch you soon." She gave a give smile and a peck on the cheek and hurried out of the cafe.

If she had paused for a moment, she would have seen a very wistful look on D.I Lestrade's face.

* * *

It was four in the afternoon when Molly got out of her shower. Exfoliated, shaved and moisturized and hair damp and twisted round, resting on her shoulder. She had a large bath towel wrapped around her just under her arms and fastened in the towel fashion of a 'twist and tuck'. She hummed as she bustled round her bedroom, clothes and shoes scattered as she tried to find something that would be casual yet smart, she didn't want to come off like she made too much effort if it ended up being something ridiculous like bowling, or a crime scene.

Molly Hooper's flat was a simple one bedroom design on the 1st floor of a small apartment block. The area wasn't too bad so the rent really was. It was a similar layout to Baker Street with her bedroom separate with an en-suite attached. The decor was quirky and mismatched but that suited her perfectly. Her kitchen was tiny though her living room made up for it. It was quite long, with a room length book shelf and a very soft chair facing the window, perfect for late nights reading. The other end had a squishy three seater sofa and TV. She didn't need much else and Toby, her feline companion, slept where ever he felt like it.

She shortly headed into the kitchen still humming and grabbed the kettle and head to the sink to fill it with water. As she turned she suddenly felt uneasy when she realised an cup had been washed up and placed on the drainer. Now, it seems simple enough to ignore but living alone, Molly knew she hadn't left it there. She placed the kettle down slowly and opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out her the first utensil she could put her hands on. Firmly gripping the handle she crept towards the door way of the living room and carefully leaned her head around the corner.

"Miss Hooper, unless you plan to 'mash' me to death I suggest you put that device back in the drawer." A fed up tone commented dryly. Molly let out a scream and jumped out of her skin, flailing ridiculously.

"MYCROFT HOLMES!" Molly snapped indignantly, "How the bloody hell did you get in here?!"

He said nothing. Mycroft was currently sitting on Molly's sofa, looking incredibly at ease. His legs crossed at the knee, briefcase resting on his lap as he appeared to be reading through paperwork. He glanced over his papers and raised an eyebrow at Molly. He looked her up and down. It was only then she realised that she was currently naked for all but a towel and brandishing a Spud-a-nator. She blushed fiercely and held her towel possessively. She huffed, "You could have called ahead, or something?"

He rested his papers back in his case for a moment, "I sent a text."

She rolled her eyes, "Mycroft, unless I reply how do you know I'm free? Or even in?" She placed the utensil back as her heart rate returned to normal. He just continued to watch her, "I suppose I should be used to it by now, Sherlock just turns up and appears on my sofa sometimes too."

At the mention of his brother the mood shifted slightly, "And my brother is the reason I have a key." A flash of emotions met on Molly's face, "My dear brother uses this as a regular 'bolt hole', it is only right that I can access it if the need arises." Molly frowned, this was her home and the Holmes brothers treated like a hostel. "Don't worry Molly." Sensing her discord, "I haven't ever abused the ability to access your home up to this point and I'll do my best not to do so in the future."

"What was so important that you felt the need to 'abuse' it now? Is everything alright?" Molly leaned on the door frame, towel still tight.

He shrugged and lifted his papers again, "You hadn't replied to my texts and you left your 'meeting' with a 'very friendly' Lestrade rather sharpish." He looked completely unfazed but the tone suggested he was anything but that.

"How did you know-" She rolled her eyes at his raised eyebrows and neutral expression, "I don't know why I ask..." She huffed, "Mycroft, your concern is sweet." He scoffed, she continued, "It is, but I'm fine. I just had to get ready to meet you, actually, and Greg likes to talk, I'd have never have gotten away if I didn't rush like that." She smiled. "I need to carry on getting ready so if there isn't anything pressing...?"

"Not at all. Please continue. Do try not to take too long, its getting on in the afternoon." He glanced at his watch, "We will head to my house once you're ready and brief there. There is everything there that you need to be prepared and appropriate for this evening." Molly looked puzzled, "Clothes, Molly. Formal clothes. Civilized folk wear them more often than not, save a few occasions. Unless, of course, you're more comfortable attending in your current 'fetching' outfit."

Molly, suddenly recalled again she been chatting to Mycroft Holmes in just a towel for a while now, blushed again and quickly made way to the bedroom.


	7. The Start of the Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly makes it to Mycrofts house

**Maybe this Time**

A/N Thanks for the likes, loves, reviews and things! Much love ^,^

* * *

Molly had fought to get ready very quickly. She dashed around, dodging clothes and shoes, trying to gather up her essentials to take to Mycroft's.  
At one point there was a loud thud, a cat squealing and a lot of profanities being cried out, "Miss Hooper?" Mycroft had lowered his papers, and narrowed his eyes. If she didn't respond in 5 seconds he would have to investigate. It sounded like a creative murder plot had unfolded in there. "Molly?"

He'd stood up now and made his way towards the bedroom door, he knocked twice but no reply came so he tried the handle and let himself in. A furry ball of lightning sprang out the room and through Mycrofts legs, he raised an eyebrow and wondered what that feline had done.  
A quick glance around told him she wasn't in there but then he noted the bathroom door ajar and ventured further in.  
He could hear water running which is probably why Molly hadn't heard his calls. He reached the bathroom door just as she came through it. A damp Molly bumped into a very solid Mycroft and screamed, "Mycroft Holmes! What are you doing now?!" Her towel looser this time and the opening had risen up her thigh.

He chuckled despite himself, "Miss Hooper, I heard the comotion and came to see if you were indeed still alive." His eyes travelled the length of her, "And haven't you just had a shower? Women are peculiar creatures if they have to shower again because someone saw them before they dressed." He mused, his tall frame towered over her and he had the right angle to appreciate the curve of her breasts, but he kicked himself before she noticed. He hoped.

Molly huffed, blushed and rolled her eyes all in one go, "I needed to shave my legs." She mumbled, and then before he could react, she shoved Mycroft, "Out." She pushed him some more, "Out, now, so I can finish getting ready." Slamming the door behind him. Once he was out she glanced again at her room, 'Oh god, he's going to think I am a right slothenly pig.'

Mycroft hadn't thought that at all, he was more caught up on the swirling storm threatening to break inside his chest and trousers. He hadn't been that close to a woman in years, not this casually and certainly not with her in a wet towel pressed against him. He took a breath and cleared his head. 'Work. Yes, back to work.' He adjusted his trousers and set to distracting himself.

Molly was only another 15 minutes and when she finally came out the bedroom she wasnt sure Mycroft had noticed. Of course he had, but had no reason to react just yet. If he knew anything about women it was just because she looked ready didn't mean she was. "Sorry... About earlier." She looked at her converse pumps. She had currently settled for casual since Mycroft had already said he had gotten the formal wear sorted. She was in a large fluffy jumper, dark skinny jeans and her hair was now less damp and plaited in a french braid.

He looked up, eyes narrowed then softened. "Molly, I shared dorms with a group of men for several years. I've seen bedrooms in much worse states, at least yours didnt have anything living or breathing lurking around under the layers of clothing."

Molly blushed a deep shade of red and fiddled with the end of her sleeve. "I actually meant me parading around in a towel for the entire time you were here..." She smiled weakly, "But thanks for clearing that up too, I did wonder what thoughts must have passed through your head as you saw walked in my bedroom." The shade didn't leave her cheeks.

He placed his papers back in his brief case and shut it, "Ah. I invaded your home Molly. If would be wrong of me to judge or expect you to do anything out of the ordinary just because an uninvited guest sat on your sofa." He stood and met her eyes, "If you had opted to walk around completely naked, who would I be to discourage you?"

Mollys stomach was doing 360 degree flips while she watched him gather the last of his things. 'Mycroft Holmes is full of surprises.' "The car is waiting down stairs. If you have everything...?" He gestured for her to make a move towards the door.

"Oh! Yes, right, errrm I think so..." Molly scooped up her overnight bag and kissed Toby on the head. "Be a good boy." She fussed him again and made her way down to the car. Mycroft's brows dipped at the exchange between her and her cat but he said nothing and followed behind her, shutting the door.

The journey in the car was relatively quiet, Molly seemed more interested in trying to work out which part of London exactly Mycroft resided. But they drove for about half an hour and she had no clue where they had ended up. They'd left all landmarks and the houses started being placed further and further apart and slowly becoming bigger and bigger.

Molly's face must have given away how in awe she was because Mycroft looked at her with a glint in his eye. "Yes, its beautiful and no I am certainly not compensating for something." With that he climbed out the car.

Molly laughed, once the words had set in, and climbed out the car following him up the gravel path. The driver collected her bag off of her without a word and walked ahead into the house.

'The house?', Molly thought, 'More like Manor.' It was at least 5 bedrooms, with ensuites. She'd bet anything there was a library, office, swimming and wine cellar. There was an annex round the side too. It was a grand old house, the windows and doors both had large wooden frames and the gardens were immaculate. The gravel shifted and crunched under foot as they reached the front door.

"Molly, just ask." Mycroft said while he opened the large door and removed his overcoat and hung his umbrella. "I can see your dying to so do." He turned back to her expectantly.

Her lips formed a tight lipped smile, "Oh.. I was just wondering how living so far out of London is ideal for your work? And such a large house too..." She looked down, "Its none of my business, and its not even relevant..."

"You're right." His face neutral, Molly was taken aback for a second but then he continued, "It isn't always the most ideal for certain circumstances that arise in terms of distance from the city but, if I am in a hurry for whatever reason, I usually get police escorts or manage some sort of road priority." He gave a smile that simple said 'perk of the job'. He continued, "As for the size, its partly vanity reasons, more other peoples than my own. I am expected to live in such a place so I must, or it causes unease. And, such a grand location intimidates the weaker guests which has its boons." He looked smug, then adding, "And final, Molly, how many cars or vehicles do you think pass down this way? A limited few I'd wager. And that helps when security is an issue. I and my staff are aware of the usual traffic so anything out of the ordinary is noted very quickly and this prevents any unpleasant 'surprises'." Molly withheld the question as to whether he'd ever had to deal with any of those.

Molly nodded, "And Sherlock can't just turn up on a whim so easily I suppose?"

Mycroft gave a quirk of the lip, a half smile, "My little brother is welcome here whenever he pleases. But yes it does mean it doesn't take advantage of the offer like he does at your flat." He began to lead her upstairs, towards the dressing rooms.

"Oh hes not there all that often.." Molly said thoughtfully, looking around at the panel walls and beautiful art pieces, "Once or twice a month is probably the most I get woken up and have to give up half my duvet." She smiled sadly, "It was a little more frequently when John moved out, mind. Sherlock didn't handle that too well, being alone again."

Mycroft mistook her sorrow as upset that Sherlock didn't 'share her duvet more frequently' rather than the actual fact she felt sorry for Sherlock feeling so vulnerable again and feeling the need to share her duvet at all. He stiffened. "Its all for the best then that I don't reside closer."

Molly hadn't really noticed how much Mycroft's shields had dropped after spending the afternoon together but she definitely felt the shift in the air when he slammed them back up at the mention of his brother. Did he think she had just openly boasted about having regular sex with Sherlock? He wouldn't think that of her... would he? She wouldn't be so crude. Molly frowned but continued to follow Mycroft up the next stair case.

Mycroft was lost in his own thoughts. He knew Sherlock was a regular in her flat, he'd had time to watch her little habits and rituals and knew that some of the things were 'off' for Molly. And he also knew his brothers habits very well too, and they very much matched up. Why would Molly lie about how often Sherlock was around?... She either lied, or wasn't aware of all of his 'visits' and from what he understood of Miss Hooper, the latter was more likely. He'd make note of Sherlock breaking into Molly's flat regularly and question him on it later.

Trying to bring the ease of earlier back he opened the doors to the dressing room on the second floor. "Here we are, Molly." She looked in and then round to Mycroft. Her mouth open in awe again. This room was bigger than her entire flat and probably cost more than she had spent, or earned, her entire life. "It may surprise you but I don't usually stock women's clothes here so Anthea organised the spree. Much to her delight." He sounded a little amused. Anthea was a hard working and stern woman, it surprised him to remember sometimes that she was indeed female and probably not so robotic or away from the office. "Pick whatever you like, all is appropriate and suitable." He turned back to Molly. "Miss Hooper? Do close your mouth, you're gawking." He smirked when colour reached her cheeks and she gave a small smile.

"Mycroft, this is... amazing." All of this for one night? Surely not? An entire wardrobe of clothes? "Mycroft, when will I know what tonight is really about?"

"All in good time." He ushered her inside the dressing room, "But for now, everything you need should be here. There's a bathroom just through there and you have around 30 minutes before Dr Watson and his wife arrive. I'll begin the briefing then." He made his way back out of the double doors, "I'll be wearing a light grey three piece suit, with a dark blue tie if you care to co-ordinate."

The doors shut. Molly gasped and let out a little excited squeal.


	8. Ready for the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's preparations and John's reservations

**Maybe this Time**

**Ready for the Ball**

Chapter 8

* * *

Molly worked her way quickly through the gowns that were hung up on the rail that spanned entire room, organised by colour. There were so many gowns to chose from, all different shades of deep colours like maroon and emerald. 'Mycroft made a point of telling me his colour choice for the evening so that decides that.' Molly rolled her eyes, but still smiling widely, 'Light grey, dark blue, light grey, dark blue, light grey, dark blue..' She chanted quietly in her head as she worked her way through the blues and greys on the rail. 'I still have no idea what tonights about..its got to be some sort of event to make Mycroft look good, or something...but that doesn't mean I can't be excited about it, does it?'

'Perfect!' She thought as she eyed the dress she held up against her frame in the mirror. 'Its gorgeous!...God, I hope I don't ruin it, I'd never be able to pay him back.' And with that she hurried to the bathroom. She hadn't got long before John and Mary should arrive and the briefing. 'Briefing...?' Molly paused, 'This isn't a case is it? Surely she would have had a heads up by now..? Maybe its just Mycroft language for 'tell Molly who she can and can't talk to and things she must absolutely not say.' Yeah, sounds more like it...' Even alone Molly blushed a little and frowned but went back to getting ready for tonight.

Twenty minutes later the door bell rang and Mycroft heard the front door being opened by Mrs Appleby, house keeper on his estate. Her and her husband lived in the annex next door with their rottweiler, 'Rosie'. Rosie was a very soft and dopey gem but looked terribly aggressive and was so large not many dared take the risk of petting her. Mycroft may never admit it out loud but he was quite fond of the creature.  
He continued to adjust his dark tie and fasten his waist coat. He heard John's wife, Mary, gasp and rolled his eyes. John - he liked because he was good for Sherlock. He had many admirably qualities, loyalty being his absolute crowning gem, but Mary... When Mary wasn't being trained assassin taking down powerful men all alone, she was a bit... whats the word? Ah yes, she reminded him of Sherlock, so the word was infuriating. She ignored all social etiquette and did as she damn well pleased. No wonder John liked her, maybe he saw it too.

"Mary, stop touching things." John hissed in a quiet tone, "Mycroft won't be happy if you break anything." He took her hand off one of the naked statues that stood in the corner of the hall way.

She rolled her eyes, "Relax, love. I'm not a five year old, I wont break it..." She went to pick up another little antique from book shelf that lined the wall. "How much do you think this is worth?"

John's eyes widened as she tossed the little trinket in the air, "Bloody hell Mary, probably more than I'll make in a life time - put it down!" She rolled her eyes again but this time placed it down. "This house is amazing...Do you think Mycroft would let me be his mistress?" She raised her eye-brows suggestively. John just leaned his head to the side, eyebrows raised and mouth in the thin line. "I doubt you're his type-"

"Your husbands right, 'Mrs Watson'." He said the title pointedly, "On both accounts. That 'trinket' is four hundred years old and is worth more than I care to reveal." Mycroft descend the stairs like god lowering himself to the mortals, adjusting his cuffs. Once he reached their level, his eyes looked Mary up and down slowly, judgingly. "And no, you're not my type." John's eyes narrowed and he breathed heavily through his nose. "Does you wife offer herself to every well-to-do gentlemen, Doctor? Or am I special?" John looked ready to land Mycroft a fairly decent right hook but Mary laughed out loudly and the tension in John's form loosened a little. She raised an eyebrow and leaning in to kiss his cheek, then whispered, "He's just baiting you love. Don't give him the satisfaction."

John and Mary could have sworn they heard "Spoil sport." as Mycroft swept into the front lounge, pouring a neat whiskey for four. John had opted for a plain black suit with no tie and Mary wore a black dress with the slit rising up her right thigh. She held a small clutch purse and wore pearl earrings to match John's cufflinks. It was the smartest Mycroft had seen John look, minus his wedding, so he assumed Mary had alot to do with it. Ah yes she definitely did, she kept eyeing him approvingly.

"And where is your date, Mr Holmes?" Mary asked, taking a tumbler from Mycroft. "I'm sure you said you had the 'perfect woman for the job' but I haven't seen her yet. Or am I not your type for more than one reason?"

Mycroft looked stern and offered John the next tumbler but John declined, he liked to keep his head clear when he was on a job. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and sipped his own drink. "You are not my type for many reasons but to list them would be very uncouth of me. John, don't be stupid." He didn't need to look at John to know he was losing his temper. "and you're right, you have not seen her yet, how very astute, Mrs Watson. I can see why John likes you." He gave a very sarcastic smile and said no more. Just then the door upstairs was heard and they all watched the double doors to the lounge. "Ah, here she comes."

Molly pithered inside the dressing room and glanced at herself in the mirror, she looked like a princess and she felt like it too. But what if Mycroft didn't like it? Or if she really looked like a blueberry or if it was the wrong shade of blue? Molly chided herself, this is ridiculous. Its just an event, you are his guest, for whatever reason. All the dresses were hand picked by him and his assistant so she can't have got it wrong. She glanced down, its definitely wasn't on backwards, good. Right. Time to head down. She was sure she heard John and Mary arrive so she could check with Mary how she really looked once she got her alone.

Molly entered the room and gave a bashful smile. Her dress was a deep dark blue, the perfect shade of Mycroft's tie. 'Thank god!' She relaxed a little now. The top part was beautiful lace across the chest and down the sleeves which finished at the elbow. The bottom was a long and flowing skirt which glided along the floor as she walked. Low dark blue heels to match could be seen peeping out of the bottom. Mycroft tried to keep what should have looked like a neutral expression but even he had a hard time denying 'Miss Hooper' looked incredible and elegant. His eyes started at the bottom and slowly slipped up her form, appreciating each curve and dip as he made his way further up. His eyes rested on her face, light make up applied and her hair was mesmerizing. She had undone the braid from earlier and just let it tumble down, soft loose waves framed her face.

John and Mary were both staring at Molly as she came down the stairs and entered the room. Mary gave Molly a wink, John hadn't said a word, like he was frozen in time. Mary elbowed him and whispered to him but Molly didn't catch it, she was too caught up on trying to decipher Mycroft Holmes reaction.

Molly was blushing under his gaze and she hoped it meant he liked it. She didn't want to show him up tonight. She admired his suit while he was distracted and couldn't help but think he looked very, very attractive. 'No wonder he's always in suits, they really work for him!' Her eyes flashed appreciatively, but she grew a deeper shade of red when she met Mycrofts eyes and knew she'd been caught. "Errm... is it alright?" She asked.

The moment broke when she spoke, Mycroft realigned his eyes and schooled his face into a mask once again. "You look exquisite Miss Hooper." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. Electricity shot through Molly, and she felt her heart rate double and her breathing suddenly became more difficult. "And you look very handsome, Mr Holmes." She smiled as he took her hand and lead her to the sofa and gestured for her to sit down. "Now we are all here-"

"No. Nope. Mycroft, not Molly. You can't take Molly." John finally found his voice and boy was it loud. "It's going to be dangerous- you said you'd found someone suitable I thought you meant Anthea or one of your other lackeys! Not Molly, no." John looked like he might burst but Mary rested her hand on his arm, he breathed and he held his tongue allowing Mycroft to explain himself.

"Molly is the most suitable woman for the job, Dr Watson." Mycroft joined Molly by the sofa, glinding like graceful cat. "She knows Sherlock and his ways. Nothing should happen this evening that Molly will not be able to handle."

Molly hadn't heard any mention of Sherlock since this whole thing started so she wasn't sure what he had to do with but if she could help she would. "John, its fine. Mycroft's right - we all know how Sherlock works... And, besides, if its so dangerous, why are you attending with Mary?"

"Trained killer, remember?" Mary flashed the gun attached to her garter for a second. "I'd have been attending with or without John. He knew that though so agreed I could tag along." She smiled pleasantly at him but he hadn't taken his eyes off of Molly.

"I dont like it, Molly isn't trained, what if something goes wrong?" John fretted.

"Molly will know what to do. She is a very important piece of the jigsaw for Sherlock." Mycroft was beginning to get irritated. "My brother is very particular who he works along side and who he is patched up by, the last thing we need is a bleeding Sherlock stubbornly refusing treatment because she isn't on hand." John opened his mouth to argue, but Mycroft raised his hand and snapped "I am very aware you are a Doctor and could patch him up too but you are also a fighter and trained gunman. You will need to focus on that." They shared a struggling stare but John backed down.

"If anything happens to her, on your head be it." John snatched the whiskey off the side and drank the little totty in one.

"As is always the case Doctor Watson." Mycroft raised his eyebrow and made a cheers gesture with his glass before taking a sip. "Now, down to business."

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Next Chapter - THE EVENT


	9. Not this again, Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the event

Maybe this Time

 

***Updated – I uploaded the unedited version #embarrassed

Here’s the proper one!

A/N Another chapter in the Maybe this Time story!

Just a note - I'm off on holiday tomorrow so I won't be

updating this until 1st August. Sorry to the followers!

^,^ Absence makes the heart grow fonder though, right? 

MiC x

 

 

Chapter 9

 

Molly sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, she could usually detach when she was in Doctor mode but this time it was different, this night was different and patient was certainly different. The first aid bag Mycroft had stored under the bed in one of the many rooms of the manor was limited but it would help stop the damage getting any worse. She didn't question how or why it was already in place. The Holmes Brothers, despite their flaws, could be a perfect team. Mycroft brought order where Sherlock brought ‘good’ chaos.

 

Her patient groaned as she applied more pressure to the wound. "Come on, come on, come on..." She muttered as she used one hand on him and one hand rummaging through the bag for another compress. Her dress was ruined, the least of her worries mind, but it was true. The blood Sherlock

had lost seemed to be mostly on the dark blue garment which was now a very dark shade of red wine. Molly focussed on the task of mopping up the blood and trying to stop more from oozing out the stab wound on his side. Mycroft stood attentively at the door. He had lost his blazer, his waist coat and shirt were both spattered in blood too. This time not Sherlock's, or his own! Thank god. If anything happened to Mycroft… Molly shivered a little and took a deep breath. Not now, don’t think about that now. It was mostly the terrorist cell's blood that was speckled across his expensive suit, but it didn’t do anything to take away from his image. He still looked incredibly refined, if incredibly dangerous. It turns out despite his abhor for legwork he was very good at it.

 

The door was slightly ajar as Mycroft kept glancing through and listening out. He checked his watch. "Another few moments and the secret service should be here." He said out loud. Molly wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention, he knew that, but he felt useless and there was only one thing he hated more than feeling useless- he glanced at the collapsed form of his brother on the floor with a very thorough Miss Hooper tending to him. His gun was still tightly clutched in his hand, until he received the all clear from Anthea or another service he wasn't taking any risks. Sherlock was whimpering but seemed stable, admittedly Mycroft's area of expertise wasn't medicine but it was his brother and he'd seen him a lot worse. It still didn't make the experience easier to handle, but it was reassuring.

 

Fast approaching footsteps were heard storming down the corridor. Molly panicked and looked to Mycroft who place a finger on his lips 'ssh'ing her and closed his eyes for a second. She held her breath watched him for what felt like forever. 'Two sets of footsteps, not pursuit, one heavy one heeled...' He opened the door and grabbed John as he went for the handle, dragging him inside. Mary followed quickly and Mycroft swiftly shut the door again.

"What the bloody hell-" John started, Mycroft glared and Mary covered his mouth. John struggled and breathed heavily through his nose. "You said this should have been smooth! You said this wasn't going to escalate! What the bloody hell was Sherlock playing at?!" John hissed.

 

Mycroft was tense, so tense he might have broken in two. But it was Mary’s expression which caused John to pause, he glanced at the other two people in the room. "Sherlock... No, no! You can't do this again..."

 

John quickly dropped to his knees next to Sherlock and Molly and took over emptying the contents of the bag and began helping clear the wound. Molly had smears of blood over her nose and cheeks where she'd been sweeping her hair out of her face. John took and look at the open gash and sighed. From the colour of Sherlock there was a lot of blood loss but Molly had stopped a lot of the damage. Molly gave a weak smile when John reached over and held her arm, he met her eyes and both had tears threatening to fall but a heavy moment passed between them of understanding.

 

He'd be alright.

 

Sherlock would be fine, sore and grumpy most likely, but fine.

John grabbed the stitch kit and began sealing the stab wound back up.

 

 

Mycroft and Mary watched the scene from a few feet away. Both weren't sure how to help right now so they stood vigil next to the only entrance into the room. Guns resting by their sides, both covered in the blood of the enemy. Mary sighed, "I think we got quite a few of them on our scout around the building... a lot of them escaped though." Mycroft made a none committal noise and continued to watch through the crack in the door. Molly held Sherlock's hand as he winced. He wasn't fully conscience, his whimpering turned to gritted teeth and then silence. John had finished the stitches and Molly kept an eye on his pulse.  When Sherlock had fallen to sleep she used one of the wipes from the bag to clean up his skin and wiped his forehead.

 

Mycroft felt his stomach lurch when he saw Molly caring for Sherlock, stroking his head, wiping his wounds. He wasn't familiar with the feeling of jealously, many had been jealous of him over the years so he knew what it was, but no, he had not dealt with the feeling himself regularly. He didn’t like it. He could identify the flurry of emotions and they made him what the beat the object of her attention silly. And that wasn’t rational. Or control. Or Mycroft.

'She's caring for him because that’s what you brought her along for, you dolt.' He scolded himself, "If anything was going to happen there it would have already. Plus, Sherlock isn't into Molly or anyone of Molly's gender.’

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was being ridiculous; this certainly wasn't the time to address this. Mary raised her eyebrows and gave a small smile but said nothing.

 

A screech of a radio and shouting of 20 men echoed through the halls. Mycrofts mobile vibrated and Antheaa burst through the door. "Sir, its all clear."

 

"I want to know everything. Now." Mycroft had switched into British Government mode in 0.2 seconds. "Get Sherlock escorted to the private wing of the hospital. And get a medical team to check out the Watson's and Miss Hooper."

 

The secret service and the medics lifted Sherlock on to a stretcher and took him away. Mycroft collected a bag and his blazer from Anthea and made his way to follow Sherlock's medics team, silently he kept pace as they loaded him into the private ambulance.

John said nothing but grabbed Mary and followed closely behind Sherlock too, no way was he leaving him now, he didn’t care what The British Government had to say about it. Mycroft, however had expected them all to follow him, he’d have been surprised if any of them left without making sure Sherlock was settled. Molly was a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself, watching as they went to by.

Mycroft stopped and eyed her. He placed his bag down at the back of the ambulance and walked to Molly, placing his blazer around her shoulders and offered his arm. “Come.” Molly blushed and looked down but she did as she was told.

Anthea had a car pulled round, Mycroft lead Molly there and told John and Mary to get into. “The car will follow the ambulance to a secure ward at the hospital.” He gave a small nod to Molly and made his way to the ambulance.

 

 

Early the next morning Molly was curled up in the chair next to Sherlock's bed. Her shoes kicked off underneath and she had Mycrofts jacket draped over her and she made small sounds as she began to wake up. She felt terrible, like she'd been hit but a tube train five times and then once more for good measure. It was around 4am she guessed, she woke around this time if she was on the early shift at St Barts so it felt right. She stretched out a little, eyes still closed and then snuggled the blazer. It smelt so good, why hadn’t she noticed Mycroft smelt like this? A smile hit her lips and she buried her face deeper.

 

It was crazy to think that just 6 hours ago she was having the most magical time. The event was a gala held in a large house just outside London and it was very upper class and formal but Molly enjoyed every second. She was posing as Mycrofts date and he didn't correct anyone when they made little assumptions or enquires about their relationship. He just gave a small smile and added a little flair to the lies. He was the perfect gentleman, Molly swooned a little when he made a show of pouring her drinks and asking her to dance.

And dance they did.

 

Mycroft Holmes was a smooth waltzer. He lead her with poise and grace and finished with a beautiful dip. The closeness of their bodies and the casual touches had Molly's heart racing. She wondered if dating Mycroft Holmes would really be like this, was this cold Ice Man actually a closet romantic at heart? She liked to think so.

 

The night was nearly over, almost a non-event as far as Mycroft was concerned. That was until Sherlock couldn't hold his position anymore and he jumped one of the men the was following. As soon as the first man went down the whole event was in uproar. Faces everywhere in a flurry and people darting and disappearing quickly. Sherlock fought with men continuously, John and Mary sprang into action taking down as many as they could. It was towards the end when got caught with his small knife. He’d been taken by surprise to managed to get away and find a room already agreed on for such an occurrence and hid there.

 

While the party was in chaos Molly found herself being led by a very calm Mycroft. He took her arm and pulled her along. It was surreal, blending in with the crowd of panicked quests and then disappearing in front of the naked eye. He really should be an agent Molly thought. Then she was roughly slammed against the wall in a long corridor with Mycroft's hand covering her mouth. Their breathing heavy and his body pressed against hers as they hid in the shadow of curtains. He released her mouth and held his position. He found himself staring into Molly's eyes. Time slowed as he brought a hand up and stroked her cheek and gently rubbed his thumb along her lip. Molly’s heart was racing as she ran her tongue along her lip then bit it.

 

The second was over in an instant and the magic disappeared. He was once again leading her through the corridors to the room Sherlock had landed in. When she saw Sherlock covered in blood and sprawled on the floor she flicked into Doctor mode and totally forgot about the moment behind the curtain.

 

That is until now... Would he have kissed her...?

 

"Miss Hooper."

 

Molly eyes shot open and glanced around the room, she locked eyes on Mycroft who was watching her from the large chair seated beside the bed. "Thank you."

 

 

 

 


	10. Four AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four am in the hospital room

**Maybe this Time**

Chapter 10 - Four AM

A/N And we're back! Thanks for the comments and kudos you lovely people. Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

Chapter 10

"Miss Hooper."

Molly eyes shot open and glanced around the room, she locked eyes on Mycroft who was watching her from the large chair seated beside the bed. "Thank you." She didn't respond for a moment; her sleep addled brain wasn't sure entirely what Mycroft was thanking her for right now. Molly looked at him through bleary eyes, a small crease forming in her brow as she processed the man in front of her.

Mycroft looked calm and collected, seated in the soft chair next to the bed, arms resting with his fingers in front of his lips and he were sat upright with his legs crossed, an ankle resting on the opposite knee. If you looked closer though, you could see Mycroft wasn't as settled as his first appeared. His eyes were stoney and his stare intense. The man of pure control had creases around his brow and slightly hunched shoulders, his lips were tight and his jaw clenched. Now they don't sound like terrible signs of a man on the edge but for this man, The Ice Man, a man so private and closed off, these were surefire signals that he was very close to the end of his tether.

Molly's face softened, the man before her who people believed didn't care for anything or anyone couldn't possibly care more. How didn't they see it? He dedicated his life to caring, caring for his brother, his brother's friends and his country. And he was tired. Tired of the pressure, tired of the strain and the constant weight of the country on his shoulders. She contemplated him, in the soft light of the lamp in the hospital room and she was completely taken in by him. Even with the stress lines and the bloody splatters this man was attractive. Maybe not in the tradition way, but Molly could definitely see his appeal. His voice along with the way he held himself was enough for her to take notice. How had it taken her so long to see how magnificent this complicated man was?

Molly wasn't the only one with an internal monologue running, Mycroft had been watching Molly for a long time. He'd watched her fall asleep holding his jacket like a life line and watched her frown, whimper and settle several times in the short time she'd been sleeping. She was extraordinary, he concluded, he'd be foolish not to think so. He owed her a debt, a huge debt as far as he could see. His brother was still alive and in one piece, and this wasn't the first time she'd stitched him up or saved his impulsive hide. And she did it all, every time, just because, well just because. Mycroft had yet to work out a motive other than some odd sentiment value and because they were 'friends'. A slight sneer hit his lips when he thought of that word. 'Friends' were rare, true friends that are. Oh, there were lots of people who considered themselves your friend and then they would reveal the reason. Be it the position of power, a favour, perks or pity. The last was his least favourite, 'pity' had no place here. He rarely met people who were kind enough to just help without the promise of gain or reward and it unnerved him. He couldn't ensure her constant support if she didn't have a weakness of greed, sin or poison.

He cleared his throat. Molly had been staring at him and analysing him for long enough. He raised an eyebrow when she blushed and stared down at her knees which were covered with the blazer. "You don't have to thank me, Mycroft."

"Molly, it is only appropriate." He had lowered his fingers but kept them interlaced resting on his chest. "You attended the event, you saved my dear brother, again. I am indebted to you."

Molly fidgeted and fiddled with a tag she had found on the inside of his blazer. "Please, it was nothing-" Mycroft raised an eyebrow and took a breath to interrupt but Molly continued, "It was nothing. I would do anything for any of my friends - John, Mary, Greg and you. You all mean an awful lot to me..." Molly stilled for a moment, her eyes resting on Sherlock's sleeping form. She stifled a yawn and moved her legs out in front of her.

Mycroft didn't respond, he stared and frowned but did nothing more. Friends and their sentiments were lost on him. He was the British Government, she could request anything right now, anything, and he would ensure she received it. And she wanted nothing. She dismissed saving Sherlock's life as somewhat of a regular occurrence though he hated it he supposed it rather was. Mycroft shuddered, he'd hate for anyone to think this is normal. He needed to pay her back, one way or another.

Molly had stood and rubbed her arms, she wondered around slightly and took a closer look at Sherlock's wound. John had done a good job with the stitches, he shouldn't have much of a scar now. "Dr. Watson and Mrs. Watson have gone home. I suspect the doctor will be back in a few hours, Mrs. Watson was adamant he needs to get some rest now they knew Sherlock was 'safe'." Molly hummed in response, noting the infliction. John could be ridiculous sometimes, of course, Sherlock was safe. Mycroft wouldn't let anything happen to him if he had the power to prevent it so John's lack of trust was a little offensive. Molly would give John a piece of her mind if it wasn't for Mary. Mary had her ways and she took to soothing John enough to get him to see sense, sometimes. Molly gave a soft snort at that thought and smiled at Mycroft whose eyes had glazed over with thought. "Dr Watson is still very angry I involved you in this mess, why is that?"

"John is a little over protective, it s part of his appeal." Molly smiled, "The few people he loves dearly are all in terribly dangerous positions ninety-nine percent of the time, he tries to limit it where he can." Mycroft watched her silently, then Molly continued, "No, Mycroft, I don t have feelings for John, nor him me, in case you wondered. He s just a wonderful friend. Now, it s your turn then." Molly handed him the blazer back and gestured to the sofa. "You need to rest-"

"No, thank you. I shan't be sleeping here." He threw the chair a grim expression. "Once Sherlock is up, which is he will be soon to cause more aggro, I have things to attend to."

She huffed through her nose and folded her arms, rolling her eyes, "Fine, stay awake but at least move to the sofa? It's my turn to sit and stare at him from this angle." She gave a loose smile but pushed no further, he'd move if he wanted to and he doesn't seem like the type of man to appreciate the 'pushy mother' approach. She turned to face the younger brother and rested on the side of his bed.

He was exhausted, switching chairs wouldn't help him and he certainly wasn't going to sleep, but it was easier to just agree for now. 'I m getting soft...' He stood slowly and made his way across the room but instead of heading straight to the sofa he stood next to her watching Sherlock. She could feel the heat of his body next to her as they looked on. "I'm not in love with him, you know," Molly said softly, she smoothed the blanket to the side of her. She felt Mycroft's form stiffen as if holding his breath to hear the quiet words she mumbled to the room, maybe to herself more so. "I know people think I still... fancy? Sherlock but..." She hesitated, "I haven't been smitten with him for a long time...I'd do all this again in a heartbeat because it doesn't matter, it really doesn't, I do what I can because I like to help my friends..." She had no idea why she felt she needed to share this right now, four am has always been a perfect time for quiet secrets and rare moments.

Mycroft remained quiet, he'd observed for a while now that Molly wasn't infatuated with his brother any longer. She used to be a mess whenever he came by, throwing herself in his path as much as possible and pining after him like a lost puppy. But now, no, she had moved on. She was completely at ease now with him, Sherlock was lucky, most people find their ways difficult to be around but he'd found several people who accepted him for exactly who he was. Since Mycroft put very little into the friends heading he wasn't sure how he felt when she added him to hers. A concern he did have was would Molly Hooper always be around if she didn't swoon over Sherlock? He hoped since she held friends in such high regard that that meant she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

He was broken from his reflection by the sudden realisation that someone was crying. Miss Hooper was still sat on Sherlock's hospital bed but now tears moved down her face as she stifled a sob. His face creased but not in the usual sneer, if anyone had been looking he might have looked in minor pain, but really he had no idea how to deal with women crying and thankfully his line of work rarely called for it. He obtained his handkerchief and held it out to Molly who gave a wet smile and began mopping up her face. They both continued to stare at Sherlock as if not making eye contact could free them from an intimate moment. "Thanks... I'm being silly, I think I'm just tired-"

"You have been through a lot tonight. Everyone else who attended in our party was some sort of trained killer," He raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, "or at least so self-absorbed the effects of events don't bother them." Molly gave a huffed sob and another smile. "You, however, do not do this kind of work. To be experiencing shock is expected." With that Molly took what she saw as a massively huge and impossible leap, she lent her head into Mycroft's side as he stood watching his brother. She felt him stiffen and relax. 'Thank god, he could have just thrown me out of the room.' A smile reached her lips and her tired eyes closed. It looked awkward because the bed was a little lower than where she'd have liked but she wouldn't move now unless another attack was about to happen. Mycroft, despite himself, lifted his arm and placed it on Molly's shoulder.

The scene through the hospital CCTV looked what can only be described as 'cosy'. Anthea smirked, Mycroft being civil and volunteering any form of physical affection was basically a sure fine sign for a more permanent arrangement. She hadn't missed the moment behind the curtain earlier that evening either. She took a look at Molly, she didn't really see the appeal but if it made him happy...

A text was sent.   
'Give me a chance to buy my hat and I'll send the invitations out. -A'


	11. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slight shift in the relationship

Maybe this Time

 

A/N Chapters are getting slightly longer now which is nice :) Let me know what you think x

* * *

 

  
Chapter 11

 

After what felt like hours Mycroft insisted Molly joined him on the sofa and they could both keep a watch over Sherlock more comfortably. In the early morning sunrise that had leaked through the night, both felt vulnerable and open, but not unpleasantly so.

Like the shroud the night offered was still upon them even though a new day was dawning and life would have to kick back in shortly. Molly had her head resting against Mycrofts shoulder, bodies pressed alongside each other, both parties aware of the close proximity of the other but neither feeling the need for space right now. Her eyes were closed and a soft snore escaped her lips, in the passing hours Mycroft had also drifted off, despite his previous plea that he would stay awake and tackle the next day head on. He had his head resting on top of Molly’s and she had the blazer draped over them both. The scene to any on looker would have baffled them, these two lone figures from opposite ends of the Sherlock spectrum shouldn’t be, what could only be described as, ‘cuddled up on a sofa’ together. They should be stiff and rigid, only exchanging words when the younger brother needed them too. But no, here they were, and they couldn’t have looked more ‘right’.

 Mycroft’s eyes shot open the instant he felt the air in the room change, such a light sleeper he was, and it had saved his life on more than one occasion but it had ruined his night’s sleep on more than he cared to count.  He was aware of several things when his accessed his surroundings; for one Sherlock was finally coming too and for two, he had a lovely young women pressed against his side who was still asleep and three, which shocked him more than anything, was that under the blazer, Molly Hooper had wrapped her arm around his and entwined their fingers. He was holding her hand as they slept. He stiffened and his breathing shallowed. Had he done that? Surely not. Molly must of, in her sleep, of course. Yes, that was it, there’s no way Ice Man subconsciously welcomed such proximity and reached out to the first person who had been so close in years.  

 Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took in all the scents that were Miss Molly Hooper and memorized the warmth of her body pressed to his. He then tried to untangle himself from her without waking her. It was getting on for seven am, the Watsons would be back shortly and John was already preparing some sort of verbal attack, it would do no good to add fuel to that fire.

 When he final stood and stretched his cramped muscles he heard, “She has a remarkable ability of comforting someone, even asleep.” Sherlock hadn’t moved but his eyes were open now.

Unsure of how long exactly he’d been being watched, Mycroft replied nonchalantly, “You would know, brother mine. You’ve stayed in her flat enough times; with or without her knowledge.” He adjusted his waist coat and shirt and smoothed his hair, it doesn’t matter that it was covered in blood still. “Why is it you’ve taken to breaking into her flat?”

Sherlock’s eyes creased and he looked towards the sleeping pathologist still resting on the sofa, he took a moment before answering as if deciding which answer was best. He went with the truth and a thoughtful observation, but he wouldn’t go down alone. “Don’t deny feeling it, she’s like an anchor. When things get…” He wouldn’t never say ‘too much’, he wouldn’t admit that sort of weakness here, “…Heavy, she provides some sort of ‘calm’. She’s so normal, plain. Ordinary but not boring. She watches crap TV, has awful furniture and the creature she calls a pet. Everything with her is so simple.” ‘It’s a form of safe escape.’ That was unspoken but the brothers felt it. She was special, for a reason neither really understood. They watched her a moment. Sherlock cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that even though he tried to avoid it he’d opened up a little too much. Time to bring back the equilibrium. “And if it’s not for that, sharing her bed is ‘fun’.” The last sentence was said with the pure intention of goading Mycroft, he’d raised an eyebrow and smirk hit his lips. Mycroft flushed, a jealous bubble rose inside him and he wanted to thrash his brother for being so uncouth about the whole affair. His nostrils flared and eyes narrowed, “Molly has made it very clear that you only enter her bed looking for comfort, dear brother. Don’t try to play games with me, not after your stunt last night. You could have gotten you and your little team killed.”

Sherlock looked away like a child who’d been denied a biscuit, rolling his eyes. “I’m curious why that came up in a conversation and I assume she never clarified what ‘comfort’ was-“ He mumbled, “Sherlock.” Mycroft warned but he continued, “And besides, it worked out in the end. A lot of the terrorist unit was taken down last night, any that did escape will be busy recuperating for months now to get those numbers and influences back. They’re rattled.” He moved a little too passionately and winced as the stitches pulled. “Molly made a terrible job of sewing me up.”

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, “It was your Doctor who did the honours so have it out with him, Miss Hooper focused on stemming the bleeding and keeping you alive. Speaking of your Doctor, he is less than pleased with you and your behaviour, do brace yourself, there will be trouble in paradise.” He gave a tight smirk, as Sherlock seemed to sink a little, and looked at his phone. He read Anthea’s text and rolled his eyes, this woman was thorough. Good for the government but terrible for any remnants of a private life he might have.

‘Instead of planning fantasy events why not forward me what you have on the attack last night? – MH’ As he slipped his phone away it bleeped instantly.

‘Spoil sport – A’ accompanied a large email attachment. He rolled his eyes once more but began to scroll through the data.  He gave a heavy sigh, nothing more to add than he already had assumed or knew. Sherlock was right, last night had cleared out a lot of the big names in the terrorist unit and had fast tracked what would have been a six month to eighteen-month plan.

Just as Mycroft placed his phone away footsteps came down the hall, John Watson was looking exhausted and if Mycroft was right, which he always was, he hadn’t actually slept at all in the last few hours. He had showered, not shaved, and then paced around until Mary had gone to bed and she was still there now. “Ah, you’re awake, great. How are you feeling?” Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but John carried on, “Good – now, bloody hell Sherlock! What were you playing at?!” He dropped a bag on the bed and shifted the blanket to look at the wound. “I want to throttle you.” He mumbled as he prodded and poked the stitching, Sherlock said nothing but let him do what he needed to. “Has anyone had a proper look at this?” He glanced to Mycroft who raised both eyebrows, “Of course he hasn’t let anyone look at it.” John sighed heavily, and pulled the single seat chair to the side of the bed and began cleaning it up once again. “I don’t care what’s going on with you and Molly, Mycroft, could you keep her out of it next time?” He carried on working and missed the lift of Mycroft’s chin as he looked down his nose at his brother, who’s face creased.

“If Molly is willing and will be a valued asset in operations, why would I exclude her?” Mycroft fiddled with his cuffs, “We discussed this last night Dr Watson, she’s a big girl, she can answer for herself.”  Truthfully, Mycroft and Sherlock both hated involving the young woman like this, but needs must and if anyone tried to tell him what to do, well, good luck to them. Molly will be an agent by next week if John kept this game of protector up. Mycroft glanced towards the woman in question as she had come round in the last few moments and was now making small mewing noises as she stretched and opened her eyes. Her eyes feel on John and Sherlock, then over to Mycroft, she gave them all a tired smile and shuffled to a more upright position.

“Look, boys, I love you all dearly, but if you keep up this ‘damsel in distress’ chauvinistic bull’ I’ll be mightily annoyed.” She managed through a yawn, “Mycroft’s right, I am a grown woman who opted to help and will continue to do so when I can.” John went to interrupt but she glared at him, “I get it, but I don’t need protecting or whatever it is you think you’re doing. I’m fine now. And I’ll be fine next time too.” She stood and smiled, giving John a quick shoulder squeeze and a kiss on the head. “I’m going to find the tea machine, back shortly.” She put the blazer on and as she passed Mycroft she placed a hand on his arm and smiled, then continued out. His face remained neutral but he didn’t pull away, sneer or frown. He turned to Sherlock and locked eyes, the challenge was issued but refused as he said nothing on the moment that had passed between them. Molly had looked adorable in his blazer; much too large for her but it suited her to be wrapped in something of his.

Molly was achy and stiff, and still covered in the blood from last night. Now Sherlock was up and well, that much was obvious from the crossed words of the three boys, she could head home shortly and soak in the bath for the day and cuddle Toby. The poor thing had been alone for ages now, he’ll have surely vomited on her bed and wrecked the sofa some more, the stroppy creature. She thought about the last few hours with Mycroft and couldn’t shake the warm glow that fluttered in her chest. He had been soft and delicate and mostly human. The cuddling on the sofa for the last few hours had been the highlight, though she thought she might have pushed it when she held his hand. But she wasn’t banished from the hospital or thrown in the tower so it couldn’t have been entirely unwelcome. The test now was to decide whether it was only acceptable in that moment of total vulnerability while they bonded over the concern for the brother in the bed or whether this would be a regular occurrence without the need to stab Sherlock every time she wanted to have him near.

She had found the tea machine; PG Tips would have to do for the highnesses back in the hospital room. ‘Want to have him near.’ That was a wakeup call, she wanted Mycroft near. She wanted to hold him again and be each other’s pillar of support. She felt safe and content with him and his snarky, stuffy manner and wondered whether he felt the same? He hadn’t out right rejected her or made any move to remove his blazer from her person, so all good signs, right?

She placed the last cup under jet and gathered enough milk pots and sugar for a small army. God knows how they took their tea when they were stressed. Molly always had more sugar and too much milk if she was feeling overwhelmed, she imagined John did too. But Mycroft and Sherlock? Well, who knows how these unique men responded. She ferried two cups back to the room, John and Sherlock took the first two, and went back for the other two. Just was she reached the door, the lift doors opened and out came D.I Lestrade looking ruffled.

“Molly!” He pulled her into his arms, “Thank god! I nearly lost it when I heard you’d ended up there last night! You’re alright though, yeah?” He pushed her back and took a look at her. He placed his hands either side of her face and smiled. “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack Mols’…” He rested his forehead on hers, he was really sweet. Molly blushed under his gaze, he was a good friend. Maybe a little too friendly right now, she felt there might be a conversation brewing, but for now, his concern was touching.

“Greg, we’re being watched.” She pulled back and he looked over at the window of Sherlock’s door. Mycroft was not so subtly glaring at the display the pair had put on. “What’s his problem?” Greg muttered through gritted teeth as he smiled in his direction.  Molly looked uncomfortable and cleared her throat. “I have his tea.” She offered weakly. Greg laughed and headed towards the room.  

“Detective Inspector.” Sherlock greeted, John gave a nod as he sipped his tea and Mycroft stood back, bristling in the corner. “’Just came to gather some facts before we let out the cover story.” Greg spoke to John and Sherlock about the turn of events while Molly handed Mycroft his tea at the back of the room. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Greg since he walked in, his posture stiff and positively radiating. He glanced at the tea and took it, giving a small nod and relaxing ever so slightly as he sipped the black sweet beverage. Lucky guess on Molly’s part he’d want sugar. She placed a hand on his arm once more but this time his eyes shot to the contact and then up to her face. He looked thoughtfully at it then back at the other men in the room. He frowned at Greg once more then looked back at Molly, he slowly shook his head from side to side. But not in a ‘get your filthy hands of me’, it was more of a ‘not now’.

At least she hoped it was.


	12. Sherlock's Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft has upset Sherlock

**Maybe this Time**

A/N Chapter 12 Woooo! Apologies, this one is Sherlock’s reflection so not much story progression but a little insight to how the consulting detective is doing and a hint as to the next chapter ;)

Chapter 12

* * *

 

 

Sherlock had inadvertently called Molly the safer equivalent to one of his drug fixes. He’d never given her much thought before, she was just there, always, whenever he needed her. Not that he needed anyone, but in those moment he ‘might’ need to be near someone, he knew he could always turn to her.

As much as Mycroft didn’t enjoy the comparison of Molly and Sherlock’s dirty habit he followed his brothers train of thought. Molly offered them the opportunity to not be the high functioning social misfits they appeared to be and allowed them to drop the mask without blinking an eye. She saw through most of their facades and still wanted to be a part of them. They still continued their games of mirrors and smoke screens, but the alleviation of the expectation did silent wonders for both the brothers.

Sherlock still mulled over the conversation that had taken place in the hospital room last week. Mycroft had made a point of using the phrase ‘your doctor’ several times when referring to John and he hadn’t corrected him, for all intent and purpose, John was definitely his. He had a space in his life that no one else would ever fill. The repetitive use of ‘your doctor’ though, he couldn’t help feel, implied that the other doctor in question was ‘his’ doctor. Like they’d made a fair swap of having a doctor each like good brothers should.

The thing is though, if you were to ask the other, Sherlock wasn’t a ‘good brother’ and neither was Mycroft so this little unspoken exchange or arrangement was bound to end badly.  Boundaries would need to be set in place soon, thought Sherlock, Mycroft would have to find his own doctor. Sherlock didn’t want Molly; not like you would assume a man would want a woman but he certainly didn’t want to share his comfort blanket with his big brother.

Sherlock was making his way to Molly’s flat as he thought through this issue. He would explain the whole thing to Molly and she would conclude that she must cut of her ties with Mycroft to keep Sherlock happy and restore equilibrium. Of course she would, Sherlock was sure. She moved mountains for him and this time would be no different, besides it was just Mycroft.

Though…. John had implied _something_ was going on and neither of them made any sort of effort to deny it. Mycroft wouldn’t deny it, he liked to see Sherlock stew and appear indignant over little things like this. The word ‘Brother’ seemed to actually mean ‘Legal Life Long Tormentor’ in the Holmes book of life.

But Molly… No, she didn’t stutter or blush. She didn’t hide her face or tell John how ridiculous his assumptions were. What to make of that?

And then the whole atmosphere change when Gordon- No…. Gavin? Gary, yes. When Gary Lestrade came to visit the scene in the hospital. A tense Mycroft tensed further and Molly sort to comfort him with a cup of tea and touch of the arm. He looked almost _jealous_? That whole moment lasted only a few seconds but the gravity of it was immense. Mycroft didn’t need comforting, ever. He didn’t ever feel discomfort so why on earth would Molly see it appropriate to try and offer it. And why on earth did he let her touch him? He would ordinarily scowl or grimace or if he was in a real mood he would remind them who he was and how unwelcome their contact was.

But he didn’t. In fact, it did ease him slightly. It did was intended even if it was stopped almost before her had graced his shirt sleeve.

Curious. He would keep an eye on it.

But Sherlock wouldn’t, nay couldn’t, believe Molly and Mycroft might have some sort of liaison going. 

It was laughable, really.

He reached the top of the dark stair case and obtained the key from hiding spot up high and placed it in the lock. Molly would be asleep now, it’s well after eleven and she has the early shift at St Barts later today so she’ll be up around six, like clockwork. He tried turning the key but found the lock wouldn’t give. Frowning, he placed it back and then took out a lock pick he carried with him. She must have left the key in the other side. Still frowning, unusual but it had happened. He knew the movement of the barrels now off by heart though so he’d make quick work of this. He took to breaking into Molly’s place many times before but had miscalculated one time, after a particularly bad day and she’d been sitting in her front room. She had been sitting on the sofa eating ice cream singing along horrendously to some musical on the TV absentmindedly when he’d strolled in. Both stopped suddenly, he took a breath to speak but she just relaxed again and patted the sofa next to her, shifting a cushion. He did so and instead of being angry she offered him a spoon. He’d never let on that he secretly enjoyed ‘Repo! The Genetic Opera.’

She decided after that day to leave him a key instead and he assured her he wouldn’t need it. And if he did need it, it wouldn’t be often so not to get used to this sort of evening. As a note to himself, he made an extra effort to follow her health too. No way was he getting caught again because Molly had the audacity to get the flu at the same time he needed somewhere to retreat to. Once or twice was fine but no more.

The wonder that was Molly Hooper.

He placed his pick in the lock and poked up and down, wiggle wiggle and round and done.

Or so it should have been. But the door remained locked.

Sherlock was so caught up in his consideration of his dear brother and his pathologist that he hadn’t noticed that Molly’s lock had been changed. When he actually looked, her entire door had been changed. Instead of the rickety wooden one with a latch and a window it was now a solid seven-point multiple lock door to what Sherlock would consider only necessary on a war bunker.

What in world…?

 

Why would she….?

 

He stopped. She wouldn’t. _She_ didn’t.

He huffed. He’d throttle Mycroft.

He took off back down the stairs and head to the next place that Mycroft would hate.

 


	13. Back at Molly's Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap at what had occurred while Sherlock tried to break into Mollys place

Maybe this Time

 

A/N And back to the MollCroft

 

Chapter 13

 

 

Molly found herself once again in the local with D.I Lestrade after a very, _very_ long shift at the hospital. Tragedy after tragedy meant Molly was working ridiculous hours the last few days and had barely been home. Poor Toby had probably forgotten what she looked like, she mused.

No impromptu run ins with Mycroft either, she thought gloomerly. Shortly after Sherlock’s accident he had travelled abroad to ‘sort out the issue’ in person rather than send the middle man and had been away for a few days. She hadn’t heard a word from him directly since their stiff goodbye at the hospital.

 

_Sherlock had been stitched up by John once more and Lestrade had chatted with the boys and gathered enough facts to work with to help bring a close to the investigation publicity. While they spoke over by the bed Molly had gone to stand with Mycroft who wouldn’t have looked at all ridiculous if he had steam pouring from his ears. She couldn’t shake the concern that had washed over her and rested a hand on his arm. What happened next surprised her, he visibly deflated, just a little. Like her touch wasn’t completely unwelcome. But when he glared at Lestrade once more she removed her hand and just stood nearby. Close enough to feel his heat next to her form wrapped still in his jacket. She took a sip of her tea and looked down at the flimsy paper cup. She looked exhausted, Mycroft noted, as he spied her out of the corner of his eye. He then watched the D.I who, despite focussing on the two men near the bed, kept throwing concerned glances her way. A tight sniff came from Mycroft and Molly turned her head to him and watched him._

_“Mycroft, we’re just friends.” Molly heard herself say no louder than a whisper. If Mycroft wasn’t Mycroft, he may have missed the tiny sound._ _His eyes shot to her then down. The context of that statement was of utter importance._ _Was Miss Hooper scolding him for being affronted by Lestrades behaviour and reminding him of his place or was she reminding him of the D. I’s?  
_ _Taking a sip of his tea, Molly wasn’t sure he’d heard with his delayed response and went to repeat herself but was interrupted by a tone similar to her own, “It seems he needs informing.” He had decided even if she had have meant to scold him he would take the moment to make clear, clear as the Holmes brother allowed, where they all stood._

_She wasn’t sure why she felt she needed to explain her relationship with Greg, but she definitely got the impression it ruffled Mycroft more than he’d be willing to discuss right now._ _It seems Mycroft is the jealous type, Molly idly noted, even when he hasn’t shown any direct interest in a relationship short of appearing for tea at random intervals, asking favours and scowling at any male friends; John, Sherlock and Greg mainly._  
_Once Lestrade had finished up he patted Sherlock on the shoulder, shook Johns hand and came over to Molly and Mycroft who were standing quietly, slightly turned towards each other, exchanging long cryptic stares. He interrupted with a small sigh and kissed Molly’s cheek with a casual wink, “I’ll catch you at the morgue later Molz’."  
_ _He outstretched his hand, “Mycroft.” There was a pause and Mycroft raised his chin in the air, his shoulders and chest swelling up like a puffin. With his free hand he clasped Greg’s and shook it shortly. “Detective Inspector.” Molly studied her cup again._

_“Mycroft?” Molly whispered once Greg had left, but he merely glanced her way and then moved to John and Sherlock. She tutted, Holmes men were all he same. He revealed that now Sherlock’s condition was confirmed he would be away for a while and would see them once he arrived back. He gathered his other things and flicked out his phone, tapping away, to who everyone would assume would be Anthea, for a plane or car or something. He nodded towards Molly and pushed open the double doors and left. She followed after a few moments, mumbling something about Mycroft’s blazer to an unconvinced John and frowning Sherlock._

_“Mycroft!” She called after him as the doors to the lift began to close. She stopped them and joined him inside as they shut once more. She shrugged it off the jacket with a smile. “Here.”_

_“Ah, Thank you.” He took it and folded it over his arm. Silence took over as they stood in the lift._

_She shuffled a little and filled the silence. “I have a lot of male friends…” Smooth Molly, she continued anyway, “In fact, besides Mrs Hudson and Mary, I have only male friends really, women aren’t really my strong point… I mean, we, they have different priorities and I work with dead bodies for a living…” Shup up Molly! “Is that a problem? The friends thing…”_

_Mycroft glanced sideways and frowned, “I have no idea why you would think-“_

_“Good.” She sighed, “I don’t either, but it seems… You always…” Molly couldn’t finish the sentence because the doors opened on the ground floor and Mycroft stepped out, holding the door open. “Can we talk? When you’re back, I mean.”  
_ _He gave a curt nod and Molly smiled. She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek before she thought better of it. “Be safe.” He gave another nod and a small eyebrow raise and then let the doors close._

_It was around five days later that Anthea showed up to Molly’s flat with a team of men and a new door. Molly was just about to go in the shower for her shift and was still in her PJ’s and dressing gown. A knock came at the door and she could see through the frosted glass a figure of a woman dressed in black. Molly frowned a little but opened the door._

_“Hi… Is everything alrigh- What are they doing to my door?!” Molly gasped as they started to work straight away. Anthea raised her eyes from her phone for a second, a smirk on her lips, raising her eyebrows. “Yes I can see they’re replacing my door, but why? It was fine!”  
_ _Anthea raised her eyebrows again, “Mr Holmes disagreed.” She handed her the new key._

_She took it, processing the audacity of Mycroft, “Is there a spare?” Anthea stopped typing and raised her head. “It’s just, Sherlock uses my spare and Mycroft usually has one too.” Anthea didn’t respond but tapped away on her phone. A second later with a message tone and she replied, “Mr Holmes has one but will see to it his brother receives one as well._

_“Right…Thanks…”_

 

 

She glanced at her watch as Greg went to get yet another round from the bar, 1 AM! Ugh… She was due back on shift soon. She’d make this her last then probably head back to work and sleep in the overnight quarters instead. No point heading home now with only five hours’ spare. ‘Greg must have a day off today; he’s really hitting them hard.’ Molly looked concerned as he sat back down at the table slamming the two drinks and giving Molly what she could have only assumed was supposed to be a wink but came across as more of a post-sneeze face.  She made quick work of the last drink and leaned into Greg, “I’ve got to get going.” She was sure she didn’t slur but there was a chance, and with the loud music playing it’s no wonder he just looked confused. They had several glasses piled up on the table now even though they’d only been in a few hours. She stood, “I’ve got work again soon and I need to get some sleep.” He stood up and leaned into her, she repeated herself again in his ear and he looked a little disheartened. She gave a smile and leaned in again to tell him she’d see him soon but instead of getting his ear she was taken by surprise by his lips.

She froze, her lips to his, while he brought his hands up to her neck and hair trying to deepen the kiss, oblivious to the one-sided enthusiasm. She pulled away and he gave a smile. “Good night Greg.” And she fled. ‘Well this was going to be an awkward conversation when she next saw him…’

She fled so quickly that she missed the fight that had broken out between Greg and a gentleman that was standing not so far away watching their exchange.   
She rounded the corner heading towards St Barts when a long black car started to curb crawl next to her. Her heart leapt as it stopped and the door opened. Molly didn’t think twice about getting into the car and shut the door firmly behind her.   
She was so overwhelmed, and inebriated, when she saw Mycroft sitting opposite her she was close to tears, “You’re back.” Was all she managed to mumble though along with a wide unreserved smile.

“Yes. Though I dare say you’ve not been lonely.” His words waspish and his expression harsh. “How _is_ Lestrade?”

Molly felt her heart sink a little and told him about the last few days and, more importantly, the last few moments in detail. “…God knows how the conversations going to go next time I see him… I feel so terrible-“

“He assaults your person and _you_ feel terrible?” Mycroft frowned, ankle crossed at his knee, looking as imposing as ever.

“Assaults? Hardly, it was just a kiss, Mycroft…” His nostrils flared and he interrupted, “But was it unwelcome and inappropriate? He should be more careful who he forces himself on.”

“Well, yes, I’m not interested in Greg like that…”  Molly fidgeted with her hands. The car stopped and Mycroft got out first, offering his hand to Molly. They’d arrived at her flat and he gave the impression he had no intention of leaving her just yet. “Actually, I was headed to St Barts-“

“Whatever for? You’re not on shift now for two days.” Molly frowned and opened her mouth, then closed it with an audible clink, a small scoff and a soft smile. “Thanks.”   
They both made their way up stairs and reached the military grade door. “Oh, and thanks for the door upgrade. It’s like constantly being in a panic room.” Molly joked as she searched for her key in her bag. Mycroft sniffed and glanced at the door, he placed a hand on Molly to stop her moving and looked over it more closely.

“Sherlock has been here.”

“Oh, is he inside?” Molly continued opening the door.

“No. I expect not. This door is a little more advanced than his homeless network lock picking skills.” Mycroft looked smug as he crossed the threshold. “Yes, I was planning to take a spare key to him tonight. I wouldn’t keep it from him just to spite him.” Delay delivery, maybe. But not keep it. He rolled his eyes at Molly’s unasked question.

“Have you been back long?” Molly went straight to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on, trying to act indifferent.

“A few hours.” He sat on the edge of her sofa; coat, shoes and umbrella still intact. “I was on my way to Sherlock’s when I had reports of your late night drinking session with a drunken Lestrade.”

“Reports?” Molly stopped preparing the tea, “Mycroft, are you spying on me?” She was slightly amused, but more concerned. “You don’t need-“

“I have security detail on a select few, yes.” He answered honestly, “You are important so in turn I must ensure your safety as best I can. Especially when I’m unavailable.” 

‘Important to who though?’ She wondered as she continued the tea. “When they reported his advances and your departure I saw it fit to step in and collect you to make sure you got home okay.”

She handed him his tea and he lay his umbrella on the table. Molly sat down next to him on the sofa, sitting back so she could see his ridged form, wrapped up in layers, sipping on his tea. Extra sugar for both this time. “Thank you.” She watched as he turned his head slightly towards her and gave a small incline. They sat in silence for a few moments, both absorbed in the warmth in their hands.

She had her eyes trained on the back of Mycroft, eyes following each little flick in each little muscle as he tensed and relaxed and tensed again. He turned finally to see her properly and raised an eyebrow. “Molly.” She blushed and shuffled forward a little to placer her cup on the coffee table, still feeling little tipsy. Their thighs rested next to each other, Mycroft swallowed as his eyes searched her face. Dutch courage urged Molly on as she leaned forward and placed a kiss on Mycrofts lips.

Time slowed as she moved to pull back, this would be the moment when she final had confirmation that Mycroft wasn’t just being protective of his little brothers friends. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she lingered only millimetres away from him. In less than a second his lips crashed back onto hers as he shifted his body towards her, their breathing harsh and her arms wrapped around him. They deepened the kiss, his tongue ran along her lips begging entrance to her mouth, drawing a soft moan from Molly. With that he pulled her onto his lap so she was straddling him, never breaking the kiss. She shoved his over coat and blazer off his shoulders and arms, then he ran his hands under her blouse while she set to work on the buttons his shirt.

Soft moans came from both parties while they explored each other blindly, neither wanting to stop and a take a second in case the other came to their senses and stopped the moment before it had started.

When Mycroft’s phone rang, Molly’s blouse was open along with Mycrofts shirt. His waist coat had been discarded along with the other coats and his belt undone. Molly’s trousers were dropping around her hips revealing her underwear and both were breathless and ruffled. Their hearts were still racing as Mycroft kissed and nibbled his way down Molly’s neck and chest. Love bites were starting to form on both their necks and a particularly large one was forming on Molly’s left breast.

He rested his forehead against Molly’s bosom as he caught his breath. He could hear the brass band that had taken up residency on her chest and closed his eyes. He swallowed and tried to smooth out his breathing and he searched through the pile of clothes next to him to find the singing mobile. Molly made a move to slide off his lap and she tried to redo the buttons on her blouse but Mycroft grabbed her thigh to stop her shuffling back and then stilled her hands. He cleared his throat and answered, “It is after two in the morning this had better be good.” His eyes roamed Molly’s body, his other hand absently stroked along her collar bone and down the side of her breast, down her side and stopping just above her pantie line.

With that something changed in Mycroft’s demeanour, his eyes clouded over and he was once again Ice Man. Molly felt incredibly vulnerable as he snapped at the person at the end of the phone to send the car. He lowered the phone and rested it to his lips, lost in thought.

“Mycroft? Is everything-“ His eyes snapped up and he looked like he had genuinely forgotten the young woman sitting on his lap. He sighed and sniffed. “Sherlock.” Was all he muttered.


	14. Accompany Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Mycroft pull their selves together to collect Sherlock.

Maybe this Time

 

A/N Sorry for the delay in the usual updates - Life is happening and I've found myself with a little less time than usual. Annnnd the one shot ideas appear frequently!

* * *

 

 

Molly slipped off Mycroft's lap and began dressing herself again, watching him do the same at a quick pace. Her heart was racing as she fastened the final button on her blouse.  What in the world was happening? She had just been very close to having sex with Mycroft Holmes. She couldn't quite believe it.   
She flicked her eyes towards the very formal gentleman replacing his waistcoat a few feet away, yes, okay - it was definitely him. A blush crept up her chest and towards her cheeks as she straightened the collar on her blouse and tried to settle her breathing. A small swallow and a deep breath, she turned to Mycroft. 

He'd been watching the back of her form for some time, subtly of course, while he rearranged himself to a more acceptable manner. He regarded her, raising his chin slightly when he realised she too was stealing glances. He softened his facial expressions and demeanor hoping she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable but.... Then stopped. What if she regretted the impulsive little display and was trying to figure out a way to tell him?   
His shoulders tensed. His expression turned to stone again.  
Probability suggested that she was most likely to not going to recoil and throw him out but... He stiffened and watched her more closely.

As much as he hated to not clear this up here and now, he had a brother who needed addressing. He cleared his throat once he had righted himself and kept his tone controlled.  "My dear brother has been seen entering one of his usual 'danger night' haunts." He revealed once he had his armour fully restored.

Molly inhaled sharply, the air in the room shifted as she began to worry about the young consulting detective. Her head swam with questions but Mycroft nipped them in the bud; "Would you accompany me to collect him?"   


Of course Molly agreed to join Mycroft and quickly gathered her things. Soon they were both in the black car heading towards the ‘doss house’ of Sherlock's choice.  Silence ruled the car as they made their way through the city centre and out of the other side. Molly had her work clothes on but had thrown a large garish fluffy jumper over the top instead of a coat and she pulled at the bobbles absentmindedly while she went over the last few  hours in her head. She was exhausted now she stopped for a moment; the long day at work and then the late night with Greg. She stifled a yawn and leaned her head against the window of the car.

Mycroft watched her as she shut her eyes and then flicked his eyes to the rear view mirror. His driver wasn't paying attention to the couple in the back so he flexed his hand and reached for Molly's, but then he hesitated. He had been keeping an eye on Molly last night once he found himself back in the UK. Anthea had a thorough report compiled for him and a very up to date 'current status' constantly available for whenever he asked. Or didn't ask as the case were sometimes. Anthea had taken to just 'casually' adding it in at the end of the briefings if the situation allowed. He had gone out his way to make sure she had gotten home safely after Greg had made a stupid move; it was late and she had been drinking. She was the perfect target if anyone was paying attention to the small pathologist as she left the bar alone. 

The look on Mycroft's face when he had heard about what Lestrade had tried to do had been enough to wither flowers. Anthea actually had a car prepared to collect Molly before Greg had misread the situation but Mycroft had insisted on being present very quickly.    
He looked her over again. With being so close, he saw the remains of their encounter marking her throat. The thrill of pleasure that ran through him on seeing such a damning mark involuntary had him taken aback. He and Molly needed to clarify what exactly they were and soon. His possessive nature would only become set in stone the longer the situation played out and if she wasn't interested in anything more permanent or serious then he would need to reassess his position and his approach to their 'friendship'. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not now, but soon. 

Molly, it seemed, had fallen into a deep sleep next to him. He took her hand which had been tucked into her lap and held it for a moment. He brought her knuckles to his lips and then lowered it again. He kept hold of her and rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over her fingers. He could explore this is she was willing. But how to broach the topic without scaring her off?

‘Focus.’ Mycroft scolded himself, ‘Sherlock is in trouble, again. What had tipped him over the edge this time seemed utterly ridiculous really.’ Mycroft had already concluded changing Molly’s door had been the cause of the problem but really? Is that all there was to it? Sherlock usually took a lot more to push this far. What was he missing? Sherlock wouldn’t just turn back to drugs for that would he?

The car drew to a stop and Mycroft leaned into Molly, “We’re here.” He whispered into her ear, drawing a soft moan from Molly. As much as Mycroft would deny it, he was human, and such a noise from such a beautiful creature caused a very male response. He cleared his throat and gently shook her. “Molly.”  She started awake and raised her arms in a sort of flail. Mycroft scoffed, how utterly useless that would have been if he had have been an attacker. “Have no fear Molly, all is well.” 

The young women stretched in her seat slightly and looked at Mycroft with a misty expression, if they had been anywhere else, doing anything else, he may have lost his self control and gathered her up in his arms.  But as it were, he opened his car door and stood for a moment surveying the derelict building and its crumbling exterior and lit a cigarette. Molly climbed out a moment later and stood staring at the building too. Sherlock really runs here when he’s overwhelmed? Molly felt a terribly blanket descend on her, how awful that this is where he feels he needs to hide to cope. 

A security detail had already surrounded the building and several agents were already positioned inside uncover ready for Mr Holmes to enter along with Miss Hooper. 

Mycroft felt the heat of Molly as she moved to join him at his side of the car. He finished his poison and flicked the butt on the floor, twisting the ball of his foot on it. “Abysmal, isn't it?” He said without taking his eyes off the window on the second floor with a light on. From the angle that Molly was staring at him, she could see how the light of the street lamps highlighted the dark rings under his eyes, and the stubble that had started to form on his jaw. As her eyes travelled down his throat she saw the beginnings of some pretty dark love bites. The collar hid them for the most part and if Sherlock was really out of his tree on some home made brews he probably wouldn’t notice them; though would it really be an issue if he did? Molly wasn’t sure how Sherlock would react to the concrete proof that his brother wasn’t as inept with women as he liked to make out. 

With that thought, Molly didn’t reply, she simply took his hand for a brief moment and gave it a squeeze. They then made their way towards the awful house to collect Mycroft’s biggest head ache. 

  
  



	15. Junkie Warren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Molly find Sherlock

Maybe this Time 

 

Chapter 15

 

A/N Not dead! Just incredibly busy.

* * *

 

The junkie warren was a little different to what Molly had expected. 

She followed Mycroft and his leading agent through the double wooden doors, glancing at the graffitied walls and heaps of rubbish thrown lifelessly in the corner. Inside, though it wasn’t exactly clean, wasn’t anything near what the outside had lead her to assume. It was like passing into a time warp. 

The furniture had been shoved around but it was definitely some old abandoned hotel; there was a reception desk and a lift shaft along with what looked like it could have been a reception and waiting room. They moved further in and spotted an old luggage store with bags ripped open and the contents flung around like a giant cloth party popper had been set off.

The smell wasn’t as horrendous as it should have been either; it was more musty then the old urine smell she’d held her breath to avoid. There was definitely more people milling around than she had anticipated. She imagined they would all scurry like rats from a flood light when the new team had entered but they just seemed to loiter, watching them frightfully, waiting to see what they had come for. 

‘People must arrive looking for loved ones all the time.’ Molly mused sadly, ‘I wonder just how many mothers, fathers, wives, siblings had entered those doors and had to search and wade through the comatosed bodies hoping to find their loved one alive and almost well. High was much better than dead.’ It made her solemn to think that maybe she’d been the one to deal with their corpse and family and never truly understood what the real horror of entering such a place and having to cart your loved ones high, dead and waste covered carcass out to clean them up and lay them to rest.  

As they passed more huddles of people, Mycroft moved slowly through the puzzle that was the large building and kept as close to Molly without touching her as he could; public displays of affection were certainly something Mycroft wouldn’t be indulging in if they ever did find time to consider it, but keeping Molly safe would certainly be a priority. She wouldn’t have been invited to attend this little collection if he hadn’t have had Anthea and her team scope and spread out through the building first.

A single agent had trailed behind them, gun out, making sure no one approached the group and keeping an eye out for a Sherlock shaped heap; but just a few metres behind them was another team of five ready to strike at a moment's notice. Molly thought the whole thing was a little excessive really, I mean thirty or so agents to protect Mycroft, Sherlock, and by extension, herself? Just how important was Mycroft, who was he really? She knew Sherlock had joked about him  _ being  _ the British Government but thirty men? Molly made a mental note to ask him about it when she could. 

They ascended the rickety staircase and moved further through the house, given that the leader hadn’t slowed Molly assumed that they had a very sound idea where they would find the younger Holmes boy and, given that there was no mass panic or a team of doctors being flown in from the most prestigious hospitals in Europe, Sherlock wasn’t in a debilitated state. The only sounds that were heard were the shuffles of marching footsteps and the occasional noise from the fuzzy radios requesting locations and giving coded instructions. 

They were lead to a set of double doors on the second floor that was guarded by three men carrying large guns. On seeing Mycroft approach they instantly stood aside and allowed them all to enter. He shared a glance with Molly who had her arms wrapped around herself as they passed through the threshold of the new room. 

The room was very similar in state to the rest of the house; peeling wallpaper and heaps of rubbish piled in the corners. The main difference was the mattresses that had been arranged in rows along the wall; some on frames, some just flat on the floor, all looking worse for wear and covered in stains that Molly would rather not give too much thought to. She stayed close to Mycroft as he swept towards the bed furthest from the entrance, crouching down to study the lifeless body. “Sherlock?”

He called one of the men closer and requested a medical set while moving to remove his outer coat and loosened his tie and shirt, rolling his sleeves to just above the elbow. Molly held his coat as she watched the detached ease Mycroft slipped into the role of nurse and her heart ached. How many times had the Ice Man performed this ritual? “Sherlock?” He reached to take the pulse from the wrist. 

Just as he grasped the limp wrist the body sudden sprang to life. Molly gasped as both the men leapt to their feet, “Sherlock you little pillock!” Mycroft huffed, “What in God’s name are you playing it?!” At the same time the squad team all had their guns out in seconds, trained on the leaping figure. Anthea had been heard bellowing through the radios, “Stand down! I said STAND DOWN!” 

Sherlock scoffed, and rolled his eyes, as he sorted the collar on his coat. “Oh brother mine! I’m glad you could make it, been back long?“ He dusted off his trousers and turned to Molly, “Your new door is quite the addition to your flat.” 

“Stop playing games Sherlock!” Mycroft hissed, “Give me the list.” 

“Give me my key!” Sherlock hissed back, both stood a few feet apart, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed. The squad team had once again become uneasy and had half lifted their guns. “Was this necessary?” The tense mood broken, Sherlock waved his hands towards the team absently and relaxed a little, “I’m in a drug den, not visiting a terrorist cell - I’m the most dangerous thing in here.” A smirk hit the young man's lips and he looked incredibly smug that no one had moved to disagree.

Mycroft glared and took a deep breath. He flicked out his phone and tapped briefly and within a few seconds more orders were heard coming through the radios; this time in a much quieter crackle. The squad team marched out the door leaving one soul agent standing on the inside next to the exit. Sherlock eyed the last man and sighed but made no more fuss. He paced a little and flicked his coat, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and offering one to Mycroft. The British Government rolled his eyes and mimicked Sherlock’s earlier huff but took one and lit it. “I’m still waiting for the list, Sherlock.” One hand in his pocket the other holding his smoke. 

Molly couldn’t have felt more out of place right now. She originally agreed to come collect an unconscious Sherlock from a dirty drug pit and help clean him up and maybe spend a few days watching him recuperate, which would be entirely in her realm of usefulness and comfort zone, but now she was standing with two of the smartest men she knew, possibly the smartest men in Britain, socialising over a cigarette. Had they been regular people this might not have been an issue but somehow this whole moment felt like she was infringing on something incredibly personal, like she shouldn’t see this almost ‘human’ exchange between the brothers. She shuffled back a little, hoping in vain they wouldn’t notice, giving them a wider berth. 

“I haven’t taken anything, Mycroft.” Sherlock muttered, taking a drag,

“So, why, brother dear, are we in a stinking pit of despair if you have indeed ‘not taken anything’?” Mycroft answered in turn. He wouldn’t admit it, but he wasn’t sure if Sherlock was being entirely honest. Mild though it may be, he still felt something was a little off. “You wasn’t aware I was back from the trip.”

Sherlock wasn’t listening, he suddenly snapped his head towards his brother, “How did you get here so quickly?” 

“Answer the question brother mine. Why are we here?” Mycroft was swiftly losing patience.

Sherlock shrugged, and continued nonchalantly, “You got here  _ a lot  _  quicker than your home would have allowed. So you must have already been in London centre, and it’s, what? 3 AM? What were you doing in London centre at 3 am? There isn’t a crisis or I would have been scooped up by a team of people and would currently be under watch until you were available.” He paced a little and eye’d Molly and glanced by at Mycroft, “You could have been waiting at Baker Street but I doubt Mrs Hudson gave you such a  _ loving  _ mark on your neck. So where, oh, where were you?” 

“Sherlock,” Mycroft’s expression darkened and he practically growled. “If you faked this little trip just to meddle in things that do  _ not  _ concern you then I suggest you leave, now.”

“That don’t concern  _ me? _ I dare say  _ you _ are the one crossing boundaries dear brother.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes, “Molly  _ isn’t  _ yours - she’s here because of me. You shouldn’t have involved her in that little disco and she shouldn’t be here  _ with you  _ now! She is my friend. The only reason she’d be interested in spending time with you is because she’s still pining after me!” He moved towards Molly and tugged at her collar and top button. She tried to bat his hands away but was too slow. Satisfied at his findings, turned to Mycroft once more, “Keep your hands,  _ and mouth,  _ off of my pathologist!”

A sharp harsh slap was the only sound for a second and then the ringing in Sherlock’s ears lasted another few. Molly’s chest heaved up and down as she tried to calm herself, Mycroft’s coat still clutched tightly to her. “How dare you.” A vicious hiss of a whisper, “Sherlock- Just what- how dare you! How could you do something so thoughtless? You ignorant little-” She let out a frustrated yell, “Your brother wraps himself in knots for you and go and do this?! You made him think you were using again just to get back at him because you’re jealous  _ he’s a good friend?!  _ He changed my door - so what? You’ve complained about the locks for years,  _ you said it was like an open invitation to rob me!  _ And just because he does something about it you go and do something so bloody despicable.” Molly couldn’t believe Sherlock could be so thoughtless, not now. A few years ago maybe, but he was much more aware now. How could a grown man revert back so far? She had tears now threatening to leave her eyes as she fastened up a button that had come undo in the small scrap moments ago, “You don’t deserve such a loving brother, Sherlock Holmes.” 

“Molly- ” Sherlock started but Molly let out a bark of a laugh and made her way out of the room, “Stuff off, Sherlock.”

Mycroft nodded for the man at the door to follow Molly and then looked to his brother. Mycroft’s face was impassive other than his eyes which widened for a second once they met Sherlock’s confused and hurt expression, eyebrows raised slightly. “Well, if that’s all brother mine.” He turned on his heel. Seeing Sherlock so lost and confused bothered Mycroft more than he’d like to admit but this was his mess this time, and letting him stew in it wouldn’t do him or anyone else any harm. 

“Tell her...tell Molly,” Sherlock started to the back of his brother, but he really didn’t know how to finish that sentence. This hadn’t played out how he envisioned at all. 

Mycroft paused at the door and looked over his shoulder, “Not this time baby brother, I think it’d do you the world of good to work this one out for yourself.” 


	16. Journey Home

Maybe this time

Chapter 16

A/N A shorter update sorry loves! It'll get moving again the next chapter <3

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Molly barged through the doors at the entrance of the old hotel and down the stone steps. She didn’t stop walking until she bumped a tall man blocking her path. 

“I’m sorry Dr Hooper, but we must wait for Mr Holmes-” The man in black holding a gun to his chest informed her. “Please head back to the car, you can wait in there.” 

Molly’s nostrils flared as she unwrapped her arms from around herself.

“You can inform Mr Holmes I have gone for a walk to clear my head and I’ll be back shortly,” She hissed through gritted teeth, her finger pointed at him and then to herself, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl. I can manage a walk around the block.” She went to sidestep him but found he blocked her path again. 

She closed her eyes a moment and took a deep breath,  _ ‘Don’t lose your temper, he’s just doing his job. Don’t lose your temper, he’s just doing his job Don’t lose your temper, he’s just doing his job’ _

She repeated to herself several times and then moved to go around him again only for him to stop her once more.

“I really must insist-” He started but a very angry Molly cut him up.

“Look here, you irritating little man! I have had one hell of a long day and it is just getting longer!” She gritted her teeth once more and squared up to the man who was a good foot or so taller than her, “There’s only so much more I can take before I lose my composure. So,  _ please  _ stand aside and Let. Me. By!” Each of the the final words were punctuated by her poking the man in the centre of his chest. 

He stood incredibly still, “Doctor, I will be forced to use physical restraint if you persist. Please get into the car and await Mr Holmes.” She chose this moment to try once more to pass him and let out a frustrated growl when he didn’t let her. He then tucked his gun into the holster and made to grab Molly’s shoulders. 

“Get your hands off of me-!” Molly wriggled to avoid grasp and made to elbow him in the stomach, but as if she had figured out some magic words he withdraw his hands and stood back, his eyes looking straight forward and gun back in the chest position. 

“Stand down, Jones.” A pointed voice came over her head in a clipped tone, and ‘Jones’ gave a brief nod and moved back towards the car but kept his eye on the couple. Mycroft watched him for a second and then turned to a disheveled and uneven Molly whose face was pulled tight, a small pout on her lips. He cleared his throat. “Molly, if you could refrain from attacking the staff-” If she hadn't have been so wound up she would have heard the humour in his words but instead;

“He should have just let me go for a walk- I wasn’t planning to disappear or throw myself off a bridge or something. The worst place you would have found me would have been in a bar with a bottle of wine.” She grumbled, arms back around herself. 

Mycroft scoffed and looked her over, “Be that as it may, he was just doing his job.” Mycroft let on a hint of a smile before continuing, “Come. We can talk properly in the morning. For now, sleep is what you need.” He offered his arm. Molly looked like a petulant child sulking for a short moment. She wanted to run her mouth and shout about how Sherlock behaved like a ridiculous infant and how she was livid with the last 24 hours of her life but a wave passed over her that made her sway a little; exhausted would have been a weak description for how she felt all of sudden but it was the best she could offer while her brain caught up with the day's events. She took Mycroft’s arm formally and he lead her silently back to the car. Jones opened the door for them both and Molly avoided his eye contact, frowning still. However, she would apologise next time she saw him but for now she wasn’t sure she’d manage anything sensible without sobbing incoherently on his suit. 

They climbed into the car and sat a few inches apart.

The space between them didn’t matter in this moment, with the risk of sounding cliche, she could feel his presence next to her with every inch of her being. Not in the lust driven sense like earlier that evening but in the comforting sense; like knowing your bed is just in the next room after a hard day. Or your favourite pair of pajamas are fresh out of the tumble dryer and ready to be put on after walking in a storm.

Times with the Holmes boys could  _ definitely  _ be described as a storm. Mycroft was the eye though, he was the calm amongst the chaos; the conductor. And that left the rampant winds that swirled around causing havoc; and what better description for Sherlock?

Mycroft brought her comfort in this moment of unsettled and exhausted energy and she hadn’t had this sort of peace from a ‘friend’ before, except maybe Toby. She smiled to herself, she really was a crazy cat lady. 

Usually in these intense, high demand situations she would recoil from others. Seeking comfort in her own ability to manager her work load and hiding amongst the deaths of her many cadavers, 

‘Friend’... This brilliant man beside her was her friend, she had no doubt. Even if he wouldn’t admit it so openly or at all. Did friends share such intimacy like they had that evening? Certainly not, but then spurr of the moment who knows. 

Would it be wrong or clingy if she thought it meant more? 

Mycroft Holmes didn't seem like the ‘one night stand’ type... 

Her brain wasn’t up to these such of chats right now. In the morning, yes, in the morning they would talk and they would straighten the whole thing out. 

Molly’s head lolled to the side as her eyes closed of their own accord. Mycroft glanced over to her and saw what an awkward position she had come to sleep in and decided as long as the middle screen was shut they would be no harm in making her more comfortable, and with that he shuffled closer and brought her head to rest on his chest, his arm around her shoulder. Much better, no need for her to have a stiff neck when she awakens. He absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down her arm as he reflected on her little display with Sherlock. 

Sherlock had really,  _ really  _ shown new levels of low tonight. Even Mycroft hadn’t expected the little plot turn of events, oh he knew he was capable but for Sherlock to fake such a thing was really just too much. Dreadfully petty and childish, just like when they were young boys… 

Molly had come with Mycroft willingly to collect his degenerate sibling. It was  _ different  _ sharing this responsibility now. Not that he hadn't already shared this with John for years now, but sharing the weight load his side of things, well, he could get used to it. _Ah John. How would Sherlock's beau respond to his antics? He'd be sure to enlighten him at the opportune moment.  
_ He glanced down at Molly’s face and felt himself soften. A good man would maybe consider not allowing her in to share such pressure but Mycroft Holmes never claimed to be a good man or the best man, no, he was simple the best man for the job. The tough decision maker willing to take the fall for his country. He decided that being the best man for the job meant having the best woman for the job behind him. Sherlock would kick himself if he knew it was by his nomination that Doctor Hooper met this criteria. That brought a fantastic smirk to Mr Holmes lips. 

He collected his phone from his trouser pocket and sent a short text to Anthea, 

‘Increase security status on Doctor Hooper,  - MH’

‘Done - A’

A second text from Anthea :

‘I have the hat. Now I just need the date? - A’ 

He rolled his eyes and ignored it, she's lucky she's so indispensable.

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Review? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a Mycroft on top?


	17. I'm not trained for this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally home

Hello again! 

Sorry for the huge delay in updating this fic! 

And thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos - you keep me right. 

 

An awkward and adorable bit of fluff - Molly is still Molly no matter who she's dating. 

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That night Mycroft directed his driver to Molly's flat and, having already arranged the next few days off for her, he asked Anthea to clear his morning schedule.

‘Already done. A’

Mycroft stared at the screen for a few seconds. Always one step ahead, he should thank her more often. Though, after a danger night he typically shifted his morning so maybe this was more to do with that than a night/morning/day/whatever the hell this time was with Molly. 

‘Oh, and enjoy what's left of your night, sir. A’

On second thoughts. 

He rolled his eyes and gave a small sigh, pocketing his phone once more. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to shift the looming migraine that slowly seemed to be seeping in. 

With that, he rested his head on Molly's for the last few minutes of the journey. He wouldn't sleep like she had; perish the thought at being found in such an intimate position by his driver, so he thought over Sherlock’s frankly shocking behaviour. All that melodrama because Mycroft had arranged a new door for Molly’s flat! 

A small frown reached his brows. 

The door had little to do with Sherlock’s behaviour he admitted to himself. It was entirely to do with sharing his pathologist and that was something he was going to have to get over rather quickly, nothing was changing on this front… 

A tighter watch will be kept on Sherlock for the next few weeks, if that was even possible, Anthea will have already taken care of it. 

The car drew to a stop at the steps leading into Molly's flat. 

Now, when Mycroft had told her it was time for sleep and they'd talk in the morning neither alluded as to whether they were or weren't spending the night together. If he takes Molly to bed and leaves will he be giving the wrong impression and will she assume he's avoiding her and their…’development’ or will she see it as gentlemanly and call him in the morning thanking him for not taking liberties? He didn't want to offend her, especially this early on… should he just take the lead and tell her now he's going to call her tomorrow at a reasonable hour? What if she isn't eager though and avoids his call? Blocks his number and tells Sherlock to tell him that- God grow up Mycroft! He grimaced. He'd be much rather facing the UN than trying to navigate a relationship!

The engine shut off so he shifted his arm and sat up as the driver opened the door. 

Task one - not to be caught cuddling - done. Mycroft looked to his driver a second and then to Molly's sleeping form and then back to his driver. They shared a moment of bewilderment that read ‘I have no idea - i'm not trained for this’. 

Just in time though, Molly started to stir and looked to Mycroft with bleary eyes and a sleepy smile. “You smell good…” She mumbled as she closed her eyes once more.

The tips of Mycroft’s ears turned pink and he cleared his throat. The driver looked away smiling slightly and stood away from the car, the smile turned to a grin as he heard whispers from the back seat. 

“Miss Hooper, you're home.” She hummed but didn't move. “Molly.” She hummed once more and turned her head towards him. “Unless you want me to carry you to your door-” 

She chuckled and stretched a little, “Sorry,” Another smile, “I'm up, I'm just…” He didn't catch the end of the sentence as she lifted herself out of the car. Mycroft imagined it was just an unnecessary declaration of how tired she was. He climbed out the other side and lingered behind her as she fiddled with the lock.  She finally opened the bottom door and took off inside and up the steps leaving an awkward Mycroft staring after her. She paused at the top of the first flight and looked back at him pithering by the door. 

She was suddenly wide awake and looked as anxious as he did, “Are you-? I mean you don't have to. I just thought you were coming- were you planning to…” Mycroft blinked slowly, and again, then waved to his driver. He slowly made his way up the stairs. She'd opened her front door now and stood in the doorway. “Coffee?” She offered as he walked in, he shook his head slowly. “Of course not, it's almost sunrise and we haven't slept… right, errrm…” She removed her coat and shoes and told him to make himself at home. 

“Molly if you'd rather, I think we'd be more comfortable if I went-” 

“No! That is… no, I'd like you to stay.” She blushed and moved towards the kitchen, stroking and feeding a mewing Toby and then onto the bedroom, still talking quickly. “When you said earlier about talking in the morning I'd assumed you'd be sleeping with me- I mean staying, staying with me. Sleeping here at my home. With me. That isn't an innuendo or anything or an expectation or that I'm implying you'd stop just to, ‘you know-”

He brought a finger to her lips. 

He'd followed her closely and was now standing directly behind her at her bedroom door. He'd watched her awkwardly stumble and fidget and to his surprise he found it endearing rather than the usual frustrating. And he was also relieved he wasn't the only one reeling over the implications of the situation, internally mind. She was blushing now and avoiding eye contact, he cleared his throat, “Molly, I didn't come up here expecting-” 

“Sex.” she chirped and then blushed some more.

He paused for a second and gave a slow sniff and continued, “Yes, that. I think sleep is the necessity for the moment. We’ll talk in the morning, as planned.”

 

She beamed at him, “No sex. That's great! I mean not great, it's not that I wouldn't want to. That is earlier we, when we, I would. Oh I would-” She rambled again and this time he chose to silence her with his lips. She froze for a second as she registered just what was happening. Once she relaxed her arms came around his neck and his hands found their to her hips. 

“There now.  Bed time.” He spoke to her lips and then kissed her forehead,then, taking the lead he opened the bedroom door, gently guiding her in. 

She pottered a bit for a few moments, sorting her bedclothes and then adjourning to the bathroom. 

Mycroft stood at the side of the bed that he'd deduced she didn't sleep and glanced around some more.

 

She'd tidied since he'd last seen her room he noted. There were photos in frames all around her room,  and the flat now he came to think about it. Family and friends were obviously very important. Friends especially he thought as he made a mental note of the amount of frames containing Sherlock, John, Mary and Mrs Hudson.  There were several from the wedding and lots of her smiling widely with John as Sherlock tried to avoid the shot. A few of women about her age so he imagined they were women from university or something similar. As he sat on the bed he noticed a large photo collage on her Cork board above her desk. They were all shots of Christmas parties at 221b Baker Street from over the years. 

It was interesting to see the changes in so many familiar faces over time; Sherlock had put on weight and looked content by the most recent shot along with John who always managed to get next to him. Mrs Hudson was in ‘John's’ chair in most shots and Sherlock always managed to be positioned near her too. Sentiment. Mycroft had to stop himself rolling his eyes. 

He then went back through the photos and watched Molly. At first she looked so enthralled at Sherlock she wasn't even smiling, just a goofy expression on her face  and then slowly she stopped cramping herself into the tiniest spaces to be near him and stopped ogling him. She relaxed and smiled and became one all on her own in the most beautiful way. 

The final two photos however she seemed to have developed a shadow in the form of a certain D.I. 

Mycroft found a haze forming over his mood. He did the same photo review again but this time focused on Lestrade who seemed to entirely focused on Molly. The final two photos he had placed himself next to her and had his arms around her. One time around her waist and in the other he stood behind her with his head resting on he shoulder, arms enveloping her middle.

He frowned. Lestrade would be a topic too, he would need to make sure of it. 

 

The bathroom door opened and Mycroft schooled his face into one of indifference. She sat on the bed next to him and smiled, a rush of mint and soap swept in with her and he placed a kiss on her lips. With that he got up and made his way to the bathroom to ‘freshen up’ too. Molly watched him and then the door shut behind him. 

 

Throwing herself back on the bed she closed her eyes and smiled to herself. 

What was happening?! Mycroft Holmes was spending the night in her flat, in her bed, with her! He'd taken her to deal with Sherlock and brought her home to cuddle! Well…. She assumed cuddle because they'd cleared up the sex bit and he was staying in her bed…. Did he cuddle? She hoped so. She really hoped so. She felt like she was on the most exhausted cloud nine! 

She glanced down and looked at her cotton soft pj's and decided they weren't garish so they shouldn't be a problem but then she realised Mycroft obviously didn't have anything like that with him… would he be sleeping in his pants? She blushed again. Recalling Sherlock had several pairs of pj bottoms stashed here she knocked on the bathroom door.

“Sherlock has pj's in the bottom drawer…..” She faded off… was it entirely appropriate to offer a man's brothers pj's to him while he shared your bed? Hmm.. not inappropriate but certainly odd! She paused and chewed her lip hoping she hadn't committed a social sin this soon. While lost in her thoughts the bathroom door opened and it revealed a disheveled Mycroft with his white shirt open, scatterings of chest hair across his broad front. His waistcoat and trousers folded over his arm and he had found the pj trousers in the drawers apparently as he had them on. 

Molly's eyes widened as she took in the formal man in his informal state. If she found him attractive before she was blown away now. Heat rose up her chest to her cheeks and she swallowed. “Ah you found them….” she mumbled pathetically. 

 

“Indeed.” His eyebrow raised as he allowed her a few more seconds of staring before continuing passed her to place his items over the chair. She watched him remove his shirt and then pulled back the covers waiting for him to join her. He gracefully placed himself on the bed and she switched off the light. They both lay down a few inches apart and listened to the other breathe.

 

After a few minutes he turned his head and could make out her eyes were open and she was stealing glances at him. “Molly-” He shifted slightly and opened out his arm, within an instant she had rolled into his embrace and played her head on his chest. He froze until he felt her sigh and took that as a sign to wrap his arm around her.

 

“Good night Mycroft.” She mumbled into his chest sleepily.

  
“Night’ m’dear.” 


	18. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Mycroft finally have chance to talk and Sherlock makes his apologie's.

## 

Molly began to wake and snuggled into the warm part of the bed and sighed. Subconsciously she noted how glorious her bed sheets smelt and her head began to piece together just what was causing her such delight.

She froze,  eyes closed tight, as she recalled that the warm patch was actually a warm man and this warm man was Mycroft Holmes.

 

_ ‘Is he awake?’  _ Molly wondered. ‘ _ Should I get up and make us breakfast? Or shower? What time does he have to leave? Will he still want to talk?’ _

 

“Molly?” A very sleepy voice muttered, “It is much too early for you to be thinking so deeply.” And with that Mycroft rolled over onto his back and wrapped his arm around her pulling her onto his chest. His eyes were still closed as he leaned his chin on top of her head and kissed her hair. 

 

A small smile that slowly grew into a grin covered Molly's face as she closed her eyes once more.  _ Mycroft does snuggle!  _ No matter how this plays out this moment will be one she never forgets.

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Several hours later Molly woke again but this time the other side of the bed was empty and not very warm, much to her dismay. Frowning, she sat up slowly and glanced around her room. ‘ _ Surely it wasn't a dream?”  _  But then she spotted the pocket watch on the bedside table and the blazer over the back of her desk chair. Once she relaxed she actually heard the shower running. She threw herself back onto the bed and smiled like a lunatic. He hadn't come to his senses the next day and just disappeared. He hadn't left a note and told her how he had second thoughts and no longer wanted to talk to her. He'd just left her sleeping and had a shower! 

 

_ Right, time to make us breakfast and tea and make a good impression.  _

She launched out of bed and into her kitchen, absentmindedly going to fill up Toby’s bowl only to find it was already quite full and a very happy Toby was sleeping on the sofa. Molly smiled as spotted the two cups set up by her kettle,  _ So Mycroft is out to make a good first impression too.  _

Humming to herself she flicked the switch on the kettle and began to potter around the kitchen gathering together the equipment to make a full english when she was suddenly overcome with the ridiculous notion someone else was in the room. She turned slowly, keeping a tight hold on the frying pan. 

 

She let out a short scream when she saw Anthea standing in her living room smirking as she tapped away on her blackberry. “Good lord! What the hell are you doing?!” 

 

And in that second a very damp looking Mycroft entered the room, phone to ear, in just his white shirt and pj bottoms. “Ah, Anthea.” His nose lifted slightly as she handed over a suit bag and a large carrier. Anthea didn't raise her eyes from her screen, except for a quick side glance at Molly with a smirk, and then left the flat without another word. 

 

Mycroft stood for a few moments muttering into his phone in yet another language Molly didn't know and then promptly tucked it into his top pocket. He turned to the woman who was blushing furiously as she took at the sight of his chest through the top few buttons that were undone. He moved towards her holding the large bag out to her as he swooped down to kiss her cheek. “Good morning my dear. I had Anthea bring us breakfast.” Molly felt giddy as she took the bag and watched Mycroft saunter into her bedroom with his suit in hand. 

 

Ten minutes later and Mycroft in a fresh shirt, waistcoat and trousers with his pocket watch in its rightful place, sat at Molly's kitchen table sipping on a strong builders tea while Molly finished plating up the food. 

“Anthea must work all the hours under the sun.” Molly commented as she brought the plates across, “Is this one of the more indulgent requests you've made?” 

 

Mycroft hesitated but answered, “She is very committed. Though this isn't the most unusual request but by far one of the more personal. She does often have a hand in keeping tabs of Sherlock too.” He began to eat his meal with the elegance of a royal and Molly watched diligently, utter enthralled how someone could make chewing so sexy. When Mycroft’s eyes cut to her food she quickly began to focus on her own meal. After a short silence he began again, “I must apologise for Anthea’s sudden appearance in your flat. I had hoped you'd still be asleep and wouldn't have crossed her path.”

 

“It's okay, really.” Molly replied cheerfully, “I suppose I'll have to get used to it-” She froze for the second time that morning, “erm… that is, if we, when we talk we might decide- I'd like this to happen again…” She blushed and clutched her tea and took a deep gulp. 

 

Mycroft placed his knife and fork down on his plate and offered his hand to Molly. She quickly grasped it.

“I would very much like this to happen again. Under more pleasing circumstances next time.” He glanced at their hands and ran a thumb over hers. “I called John this morning to inform him of Sherlock’s little game yesterday. If there's anyone that can make him see the error of his ways it's his doctor.” 

 

Molly frowned, ‘ _ Good. Sherlock deserved a scolding off someone whose opinion he cared about. Because obviously hers and Mycroft’s were some sort of game for him.’  _

 

Mycroft took Molly's silence as displeasure and paused. An odd feeling squeezed his chest and turned his stomach.  _ Jealousy. ‘You're being ridiculous.’  _ He scolded himself and then realised Molly had began talking,

“Is it horrid to say I'm glad John has such a temper? We're both push overs really when it comes to your brother but John isn't. John won't let him behave so heartlessly without telling him what a bugger he's being.”

_ ‘I am definitely ridiculous.’  _

Mycroft made an approving sound and let them both finish their meal without further comment.

 

Once Molly had placed the plates to be washed up and swilled the cups out she turned back to the man in her kitchen unsure of how to proceed. She took him in, the suave man in his crisp suit leaning back in his chair looking every bit intimidating and yet the most approachable and relaxed she'd ever had the pleasure of witnessing.  She was one lucky woman to just have him as he is right now she thought. 

 

Mycroft wasn't sure how to proceed either, he could navigate talks on world politics and stop world war three without a pause but now, declaring his intentions with the beautiful quirky doctor had him lost for direction. He glanced at his pocket watch, he had to leave soon. It was almost midday and the afternoon meeting started at 1pm. In for penny…. 

“Molly,” He started rising out of his chair, “The last few encounters with you have brought forward a desire I didn't know I had.” He took her hand as she watched him search for the words. His eyes met hers as he continued. “Not just physical. I wish to know you better, spend more time with you.  _ Be _ with you in every sense-” 

Mycroft’s declaration was cut off swiftly with a very sound kiss from Molly as she threw herself at him. 

 

“Mycroft, I'd love to…” She muttered as she pulled away, blushing. He looked smug with himself as he watched her from above. 

 

“But Molly, I must explain this comes with... _ limitations.  _ If we are to proceed in a relationship there are things that will be in place with no compromise. You will be under a high security detail, nothing invasive, you'll hardly know they're there - if at all if they do their job right. Public displays of affection will be limited as privacy is something I value highly and I will not compromise your safety for the sake of a quick fumble.” Molly huffed a laugh into his chest as she buried her face to hide her blush. “And finally, we are exclusive. Whatever our relationship is by common definition we are  _ exclusive.  _ I don't share, Molly.” She nodded her head against him, she'd expect nothing less from a Holmes brother and besides if she had him who else could she possibly want? She smiled like a lunatic, not the most romantic relationship discussion but how could she complain? Mycroft Holmes wants her! “Excellent. Then on that note we must discuss Detective Lestrade.”

 

A groan escaped Molly as she recalled the last 48 hours with vivid clarity. Greg had gotten drunk and kissed her. She wasn't ignorant enough to believe he  _ only _ kissed her because of the booze but she didn't think if he was sober he'd be so forward. When she shared this with Mycroft he frowned, “I will not have you at risk of sexual assault every time the DI visits you at work or you're socialising. If anything like that occurs one of the agents  _ will  _ get involved and I  _ will  _ be notified-”

 

“I'll handle it Mycroft. He doesn't need roughing up, he's a good guy, I just need to be a bit more direct.” Molly reassured him. 

The gentleman in her arms didn't look convinced but relented,  _ for now.  _

\----------

 

The next few days passed in a blur of sleep and very little Mycroft. He had been in touch via text message to make sure everything was well with Molly but hadn't managed to free another evening for them to spend together, that is until tonight. Molly had returned to work this morning and had just finished up for lunch when she received a text. 

 

_ Your shift finishes at five. Would you like to have dinner? MH _

 

Molly's face positively beamed as she snapped off her goggles and gloves.

I _ 'd love too - nothing fancy though, I won't have time to change :) xxMH _

 

_ No problem. A car will be outside. MH.  _

 

The morgue doors opened with a clatter and in marched John with a sulking Sherlock in tow. 

No one spoke as John folded his arms across his chest and Sherlock looked everywhere but at the other occupants of the room. 

 

“Say it.” John insisted.

 

“This is ridic-”

 

“Say it!” 

 

Sherlock huffed and looked at Molly. “I'm sorry-”

 

“I can't hear you.” John snapped.

 

Sherlock raised his voice, “I'm sorry I played such a stupid and vile game with people who love me and care for me deeply. I was immature and it was wrong to mislead you like that.” John eyed him again and a stubborn Sherlock sighed heavily and rushed, “And I won't interfere with whatever sordid and frankly alarming thing that is going on between with you and Mycroft.” John glared at Sherlock heavily from under his brows and Sherlock shrugged. 

 

Molly watched as he waited for her to accept but decided against it. For far too long had Sherlock gotten away with childish and hurtful behaviour. Sorry wasn't going to be a quick fix this time and she told him so.

 

“John?!” Sherlock whined.

 

“I don't blame her. You'll just have to apologise every day until she accepts.” John turned to Molly, “Hope you're alright Mol’” He pecked her cheek, “See you tomorrow.” And with that John followed a stroppy Sherlock out the door.


	19. A Date with... Greg?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Molly enjoy a date at his but Greg hasn't caught on yet.

Maybe this Time

Chapter 19

 

A/N 19 chapters and still going - I've surprised myself. When this started it was a one shot idea! Thanks for all the comments and views and kudos, you're all wonderful human beings ^,^  
Fluff everywhere!.... at the beginning at least.  
Sorry for the huge delay in posting this, I’ve been a little ‘out of the zone’ so I haven't been able to get pen to paper sorta speak.  
Oh and the spacing on Ao3 has me baffled - I hate the way it is at the moment so I’m trying to fix that so if this ends up as a huge clump I apologise now, haha!  
Here we are out of the funk so hopefully, this doesn’t feel too awful.

 

* * *

 

That evening Mycroft picked up Molly from St Barts once her shift had wrapped up and decided to meet her inside instead of waiting in the car for her to come out. His driver couldn't be sure if this had anything to do with catching sight of a certain Detective Inspector entering the main doors as they pulled up but chose to keep that to himself.

The umbrella could be heard clipping the floor as Mycroft navigated the corridors at breakneck speed, he wouldn't call it a jog, he didn't need to jog and wouldn't be caught chasing after the DI, but it was certainly a brisk pace. His overcoat billowed behind him and he burst through the double doors of the morgue just in time to see Molly removing her goggles and the DI waiting patiently perched on a stool nearby. The Holmes brother took in the scene and concluded Molly and he actually hadn't started speaking properly before he'd entered as Molly was wrapping up the last post mortem of the evening. Lestrade was fidgeting in his seat, checking his watch and adjusting his collar and shirt nervously as he watched her. When his attention turned to Mycroft he looked even more uncomfortable and after a few seconds cleared his throat and gave a nod.

“Mycroft.”

He raised an eyebrow nonchalantly, take small quiet breaths to try and level his breathing. He was not jogging. “Detective Inspector.”

“Mycroft!” Molly beamed, “I won’t be long, Greg just needed to talk to me-” But before she had a chance to finish that thought Lestrade had stood up and forced a smile.

“It's alright Mol’, I'll catch up with you tomorrow instead - it's nothing that can't wait, a fly-in visit really just to make sure my favourite pathologist was okay. Honestly, it's fine.” Greg rubbed his neck and quickly kissed her cheek, then moved towards the door. “See ya’ Mol. Mycroft.” And with a nod, he left the lab.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure, taking a deep breath and forcing down the primitive urge to growl at the silver fox. He was so caught up in his glaring that he didn't notice Molly move closer until she pressed her lips to his. “I told you, I'll straighten it all out with Greg. I could have done it just now if you hadn't arrived so promptly.”

He looked down at her and he contemplated kissing her nose but shook the thought off quickly, making no comment about the DI. Of course, she was going to sort it soon. If she didn't sort it, and soon, he'd have no choice but to step in.

“Where are we heading?” Molly gathered her bag and hung up her lab coat while Mycroft idled nearby.

“I thought we could go to my home and I'd have something brought in for us - if that suits?”

Molly stilled for a moment as she was fastening her coat, Mycroft’s home? Errrm…

“Molly?” He called, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh yep… fine. I've had a long day that's all.” She forced a smile and hooked her arm in his.

“My dear,” He started once they had climbed into the car, his face was a blank canvas, “If it makes you uncomfortable I can make other arrangements-” His phone was already in his hand.

“No.” She answered all too quickly, “I don’t not want to go to your house….” He frowned, “I’m just…” She gestured to herself. Her hair was scraped back in a neat but unbrushed ponytail, she wore very little makeup - if any after a day at the morgue, and she was wearing some uncoordinated outfit that she didn't care much for. She then threw a glance over his immaculate attire. “I’m not…”

He was still frowning from across the car, his eyes searching for her problem. So she wasn’t dressed in anything fancy, she was a practical kind of woman who worked with dead bodies. Why did she seem so bothered about her comfortable choice? “Molly, it is just my home. It isn’t Buckingham Palace, the Queen will not just happen by. It will be just you and I enjoying each other's company along with a good choice of wine and the food of your choice.”  
She gave a weak smile and said no more on the journey to Mycroft’s home. She was being ridiculous, she knew it. She’d been here before in her casual clothing - granted last time he had swept her up in one of his and Sherlock’s schemes and it hadn’t ended all that well really, but, she reasoned, she had gone straight upstairs to prepare and she wasn’t alone, with Mycroft, in a ‘casual’ non-work related way. Butterflies flew around her stomach like drunken steam rollers as she watched the houses pass through the car window.

The car pulled to a stop outside his home, the iron gates crashing to behind them at the top of the drive. Mycroft climbed out and the driver opened Molly’s door offering his hand and helping her to her feet. She stood and took a moment to take in the moment. She recalled the excitement of the previous visit before she knew quite what was going on and before the Watsons had arrived. The idea of being Mycroft’s date hadn’t become any less appealing or any less terrifying even now.  
Mycroft stood patiently a few feet from Molly, he didn’t want to rush her inside having already felt like he may have brought her here under some sort of mild duress. With his umbrella hooked over his right wrist, he offered her his arm slowly as if coaxing a small furry animal out of his burrow. She looked up from under her lashes and gave a weak smile.

‘I really am being ridiculous’ She firmly told herself to get a grip and moved towards the front door with Mycroft.#  
As the front door closed behind them Mycroft assisted Molly with her coat and cardigan and handed them to the head of house who appeared within seconds of them entering the threshold. “Could you place this is Miss Hooper’s room, please?” Molly gave a small gasp and Mycroft turned to her, “Any else you wish to be sent up?”  
She blushed furiously and shook her head, “No. I mean, no thank you.” She threw the last part in a hurry to the housekeeper and watched as she took off up the stairs with her jackets. “My room?” She asked, eyeing him in her peripheral vision. 

He said nothing for a moment, but she had a feeling he was raising one eyebrow with a look of ‘Obviously’ firmly planted on his features. “And whose room do you suppose all those dresses would stay in? They’re certainly not in my wardrobe.” If you paid really close attention, Mycroft’s ‘not smiling’ face could actually be considered a full-fledged grin. “Please, head into the lounge, I’ll only be a moment.” Placing a kiss on Molly’s knuckles he gestured to the double doors and then head up the stairs leaving Molly to explore a little more closely.

Hang on - all those dresses….are mine?! She blanched, He’s given me a room here? What does that even mean in ‘Holmesian’? Her stomach flipped some more as she contemplated the implications of such a flippant development. He really was an ‘all or nothing’ kind of man she supposed, and she couldn’t imagine he’d head into this without having thought it through. Shaking her head she forced herself to stop overthinking. After a few moments of snooping along the science part of the bookshelf, Molly heard the bedroom doors slam and quickly placed the old tomb she’d picked up back on its shelf.

“I didn't realise you have- “ She stopped mid-sentence when she saw what he was wearing.

“Have what?” He prompted when her mouth had not engaged back into gear.

Her jaw hung open as she took in his outfit. Her eyes worked their way down his torso as she noted that top two buttons on his navy shirt were open and she could see a spattering of hair on his chest. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow showing off his wrist watch. No waistcoat or blazer in sight. His trousers were a dark gray and hugged his frame much too wonderfully, Molly’s heart agreed. Finally, he wasn't wearing shoes. Her eyes strolled back up again and she swallowed, blushing furiously as she locked eyes with him to find him smirking with an eyebrow raised. “You were mid-sentence, Molly.” She blinked a few times and ‘umm’ed’ and waved her hands a little frantically towards the bookcase.

“You’re collection surprised me, that's all.” She muttered nervously, avoiding his eyes. She then blurted, “What are you wearing?”

Mycroft’s eyebrows knitted together a moment and his lips quirked a little, “I wanted you to be more comfortable so I simply changed into something more casual.”

“Casual?” She gasped, “Mycroft, only you could think this-” She gestured at him, “is casual.” She blushed again and couldn't help smile when she caught his eye. When she noticed that he’d folded his arms and looked as though he might be taking offence, she elaborated. “Mycroft, I’m not mocking your effort… I really, really, appreciate it. No matter what you wear you’ll always look like something straight out of a regency tale.” His face didn't change. “Mycroft, please, you look good. Really, really good.” His eyebrow lifted again but this time a small smile joined it.

Mycroft watched as Molly flapped and mumbled, maybe this really was a bad idea? “Wine?”  
“Yes!” Molly answered far too quickly, then cleared her throat, “Please.” He gestured towards the kitchen and let her lead. Inviting her to sit on the breakfast stools he gathered the glasses and a bottle of white wine from the fridge. He poured gracefully and handed Molly the first glass, which she had almost drained before he had placed the bottle back in the fridge. He didn’t comment and hoped that the volume might help calm her nerves a little. The way forward for this particular problem is to just ‘plough’ through it, he concluded. She’d relax eventually and once the night was a success, which he had worked out it would be, she would be much more positive about next time. Her cheeks glowed and she gave him a warm smile. Time to order the food, he decided, Molly passing out because she over did it out of nerves would definitely have the adverse effect. He leant on the counter next to her stool.

“Any preference on dinner or shall I…?”

“Surprise me.” She smiled. He tapped on his phone and then dropped it into his trouser pocket. They fell into easy conversation now Molly had stopped panicking about the change of scenery. “I’ve probably said this before but your house really is beautiful.” Mycroft only hummed in response. “You can’t deny it.”

“Not at all. It meets all standards and expectations.” Molly gave him an incredulous looked and then glanced around his huge kitchen. “It’s just a building Molly. I am barely around to bask in it.”  
“Just a building,” She mumbled thinking of her bedroom.  
“Yes. I come here to sleep and shower and dress. It’s rather like a hotel. The staff make more use of it than I do.” With that there was a knock on the door. “Ah, dinners here.”

__________________________________________________________________________

The evening at Mycroft was a huge success as far as both parties were concerned. The dinner that had arrived was none other than fish and chips. Molly laughed at random intervals when she thought of Mycroft Holmes sitting on a stool in his kitchen eating his casual dinner with his fingers. Dating Mycroft was going to be a breeze if he carried on trying so damn hard to make sure she was happy. When she pointed this out at the end of the evening whilst climbing out of the black car, he smiled brightly and rolled his eyes, “My dear, this was no effort at all. If you are this easily pleased, even if it may be a little infrequent, then I believe you will the drafty side of this relationship.” And soundly kissed her. Molly laughed at his playful manner and her heart fluttered when she realised that the Mycroft she had seen tonight would be her’s and her’s alone.

__________________________________________________________________________

The next afternoon Molly was in the lab humming tunelessly to along to the radio when Greg poked his head around the door. “Mol’? You free a second?” He glanced at the body on the slab, “Literally a second, the cars almost here to pick me up.”

“Yeah, actually, I’ve been meaning to speak to you-” She pulled her goggles up.

“Yeah?” He gave a flirty smile, leaning on the door frame, “I was thinking about the other night-”

“Me too-”

“Great! I figured we could go out Saturday night? Talk properly-”

“Ah, well, I need to-”

“I’ve already checked with Mike, he said you’re off this weekend-” Greg’s phone rang.

“That's not actually-”

“I’m sorry Mol’, I’ve got to take this.” He kissed her cheek, “I’ll see you Saturday if I don’t catch you before. I’ll text you later to work out times and stuff.” And with that, he strolled out the room.  
Well, that could have gone better. Molly sank on her stool and sighed. So much for sorting this sooner rather than later. I guess we could always meet Saturday and then I could explain it properly to him?... But.. it did sound like he’d arranged a date rather than a drink as mates. She groaned as she dropped her head into her hands. What to do?

______________________________________________________________________

‘Molly? Whats going on? x J’

‘Huh? xMH’

‘Just spoke to Greg - Saturday??? X J’

Molly was curled up on her sofa that night with Toby, who fled when she let out a loud frustrated noise. She knew this wasn’t going to stay quiet but she didn’t expect it travel quite this fast and if John knew.... Oh dear.

‘It’s a long story. I’m sorting it though x’ Molly send another text, ‘Does Sherlock know too? X’

‘Yeah, he hasn’t stopped laughing, the git. He’s volunteered to tell Mycroft for you. X J’

Molly quickly dialled John’s number, “Tell Sherlock to bloody bugger off.”

She could hear John glaring at Sherlock, “Don’t worry, he won’t actually tell Mycroft. He knows he’s still in your bad books.”

“Good… it’s already a mess as it is.”

“I thought things were going well with Mycroft? Why the date with Greg?”

Molly started to panic, “It’s not what happened, is happening, at all! Things are great with Mycroft,” She heard Sherlock gag in the background, “Greg hasn’t gotten the memo yet though and caught me off guard - he basically organised a date without actually asking me.”

 “Oh, well he seemed pretty convinced he’d finally won you over. He thinks Saturday is going to be brilliant. He was really chuffed Mol’...”

“John,” She moaned into the sleeve of her jumper, “Stop. Please. I feel awful as it is… I was planning to sort it yesterday and then Mycroft interrupted. I was going to sort it today and then Greg.. was well… Greg. Ugh… “

“Mol’ it’ll be alright, just call Greg in the morning and explain. I’d call Mycroft too if I were you - If he hears it before you have a chance to explain he’s not going to be impressed.”

“You’re right… Thanks, John.”

The line went dead and John tapped the phone to his lips. Glancing at Sherlock he frowned. “Stop looking smug, you prat.” Sherlock gave a Cheshire grin and said nothing, but kept an eye on the door. After a few moments steps could be heard ascending the stairs. “Expecting someone?” Mycroft’s frame stood in the doorway. John’s mouth dropped open, “You absolute dickhead.”  
  
"It's only fair John." Sherlock gave his brother a sharp look, "If he had done this to Molly I would do the same for her." 

"It's none of your business - and you know you're not going to help things-"

"As fascinating as this is, I am a busy man. Brother mine, make this quick." Mycroft's nostrils flared as he began to try to piece the puzzle together.

"As you wish, brother. Molly has a date this Saturday." Mycroft frowned, they had made no such arrangements, unless she hadn't told him yet- "With Detective Lestrade."

The air in the room shifted as Mycroft’s face darkened. “This isn’t funny, Sherlock.”

“Good. Because it isn't a joke.”

“Sherlock’s being deliberately an absolute arsehole. It’s not like that at all- Molly didn’t mean to get caught up in this - Mycroft?!” John called after him as he stormed out of 221b. “Happy now?!” He snapped at Sherlock as he gathered his coat and took off after him.

 


	20. Oh Bugger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date with Greg gets sorted out, sort of.

Maybe this Time 20

Hello! Yes, an update so soon - it really must be one of the holidays!  
I still feel like I’m in a writing rut like I’m just dribbling words out of my fingers, but here we are again so thanks for putting up with the rough patches. 

MiC x

* * *

 

John charged down the stairs of 221b as quick as he could, skipping steps as he called out after Mycroft, “Stop. Mycroft. Mycroft!” He shouted as the front door slammed open. “Just listen - call Molly-” But it was too late, the door of the black car slammed shut with such force that the windows rattled. John knocked on the glass, insisting Mycroft gave him just ten seconds to elaborate on the half-baked side of the story Sherlock had told him but the engine roared and he had left the street in an instant.   
John cursed under his breath and charged back upstairs to roast the  _ royal prat _ . 

“Sherlock!” John slammed his own door, “What the bloody  _ hell  _ are you playing at?! You told him only half the bloody story!  _ We  _ don’t even  _ know  _ the full story!” His nostrils flared as he stood with his hands on his hips.

“Does Molly have a date with Detective Lestrade on Saturday, or not?” Sherlock was sitting plucking the strings of his violin. He hadn’t even looked up! 

John blustered a second, “....Yes! But you  _ know  _ it's not like that! You  _ know  _ she idolises the pompous twonk and they are…. Whatever they are. You can’t just wind him up like that - you’re already on thin ice with Molly! You’re such a...a prat!”

“Molly is the one leading another man on here, I merely enlightened my brother to her  _ temptress  _ ways.” Sherlock had the audacity to smirk as looked up at John from under his eyebrows. “I don’t see how I’m the one in the wrong.”

John said nothing for a second glaring at his best friend incredulously and then said in an almost whisper, “I truly hope you believe that Sherlock.I hope you haven’t just done this to get a rise out of Mycroft and to cause a stir. If this is because you’re  _ bored…! _ ” He breathed out heavily through his nose and with that walked out of 221b.  

* * *

 

Mycroft barked at his driver to  _ just drive _ and sank into a deep fury, ignoring John who was tapping on the glass. His head was ticking over at an alarming rate as he processed what his brother had just said.  _ Molly has a date with Greg.    
_ He felt his lips sneer and his eyes narrow.  _ What the hell was she playing at?!  _ His hand tightened on the handle of his umbrella.  _ Date with Greg.  _ Think. Think Mycroft. Something isn’t right.  _ Darn right something isn’t right - your lady apparently has a date with another man!  _ Apparently. Apparently…  _ Sherlock said it so who knows just how true it is - Sherlock is a wind-up merchant and an idiot! He could have gotten it wrong - hell, he could have made the whole thing to cause a ruckus...  But the way John reacted…  _ God, he hated to be so out of his depth. 

He took a deep breath. He needed to confirm what Sherlock had said. He wasn’t an irrational man, in fact, he was entirely  _ too  _ rational so he should remember that now and make sure to check his facts before he let his temper run away with him.   
He checked his watch,  _ 7.30pm.  _ Molly would be at home and Lestrade, we’ll he could find out where he was in a second.  
He tapped his phone, “Anthea, block all calls to and from Lestrade’s phone and tell me where he is.” Once he learnt the location he told his driver to redirect. Time to sort this once and for all. “I won't be taking phone calls, for the time being, Anthea. I’ll be in touch when I’m available. I don’t want to be contacted short of a nuclear war.” With that, he hung off.

* * *

 

Back at Molly’s flat, she’d decided after the call with John she had to explain the whole thing to Greg as soon as she could. It was not going to be a nice experience, she frowned as she turned off the taps of the bath she had run; the easiest way to gathered her thoughts would be a soak in the tub.  
And, then, once that was sorted she needed to explain the whole mess to Mycroft too. She thought about calling him first just in case he heard it through the grapevine but decided there was no point giving half of the story to the Holmes brother. He was already ridiculously uneasy about Greg so explaining that she had inadvertently agreed to a date with him wouldn’t go down well at all,  so she may as well tell him everything and be able to say the whole issue had passed; he may even laugh! She grinned grimly to herself, that she doubted but it was her hopeless optimism kicking in.  
The bath had been short lived, after a few minutes at most she had come out of the scalding water she had convinced herself to sort it now. And that it was merely a phone call between friends just clearing up what could be a major misunderstanding. Greg hadn’t said the word ‘date’ once, Molly had just assumed it. So he could have just been asking to meet up for their usual post-work drinks because he wanted to chat about his ex-wife or something. She knew it wasn’t ‘post work’ at all and that she was practically lying to herself but, shrugging her shoulders, whatever she needed to do to get through this very awkward phone call.  

She sat wrapped in her bath sheet on the end of her bed and grabbed her phone.  
‘3 missed calls and 1 new voicemail’ flashed up on the screen. She noted they were from John and planned to call him back once she’d spoken to Greg. Dialing the number and holding her breath she paused to count the rings. But none came. The line beeped and then shut off.  _ Odd.  
_ She tried twice more and then gave up. His phone must be switched off. Molly sighed, so much the pep talk she’d given herself. She then dialled Mycroft’s number instead but his call did the same thing.  _ Just what the hell…?  _ Her stomach sank, she had a sudden terrible feeling come over her. She rang John.

“Molly, where have you been? Did you listen to my voicemail?” 

“Not yet - John, do you know why I can’t get hold of Greg, and Mycroft?” 

She heard John sigh the other end of the line, “Sherlock-”

Molly growled in frustration, not letting John finish his sentence, “The interfering arse! What has he told him? Where’s Mycroft now? I was trying to call Greg to sort it all…”

“I don’t know Molly, but it doesn’t take a Holmes to make the obvious deduction…” 

“Does he even know where Greg liv- Don’t answer that, of course, he knows.  Right, I’m heading over.”

* * *

 

Mycroft climbed out of the car out calmly reached Greg’s front door. Raising his umbrella he tapped the glass and waited. Greg was home, he was sure of it, so it was just a matter of time before he made sure Molly was no longer the victim of his unwanted advances. He should have just done this in the first place, he mused, it would have saved the palaver now. Despite his foul mood he took pride in acting like a gentleman and had promised himself he would handle the whole affair with decorum and respect and do his best to not sound like he was trying to play hero for some damsel in distress; Miss Hooper was anything but a fairytale princess, she was so much more, and certainly didn’t need Mycroft to rescue her. He was about to consider how mad Molly may have been if he had of just gone ahead with this plan originally but that was interrupted with when Greg opened his front door. 

His hair looked like it had been seriously molested all day long and his shirt was half open. Mycroft noticed the tumbler of whisky he held in his hand, he somehow doubted it was the first. “Detective Lestrade.” 

“Mycroft…” He eyed him cautiously, “Is everything alright? I don’t know where your brother is, but I can make a few calls and-”

“Thank you. But as far as I am aware he is sitting in his hovel of a home  _ gloating. _ ” The heavy infliction of the final word wasn’t missed. “May I come in?”

Greg frowned and seriously looked like he considered denying the request but shuffled backwards and let him in. “I should warn you though, I’ve been pulling some pretty long hours-” He caught Mycroft lift his eyebrow, “And I can’t afford a cleaner.” He added, pointedly. “Drink?"

Mycroft paused a few paces into the living room, “No, thank you. This isn’t a social call and needn't be a long visit.”

“Oh right-” Greg stayed next to the front door, not quite shutting it to. 

“I will say this once, and only once. I shouldn’t have had to come to this but, stay away from Miss Hooper.” Very eloquent, he chided himself, so much for behaving like a gentleman. Ah well, it's done now. 

“What?”

“I believe you heard me, Lestrade. Miss Hooper is a fine woman who has tolerated your advances in good humour but seeing as she-”

“You bloody wanker!” Greg snapped, aghast. “Good humour? Is that what you think I am, some sort of joke?!” He rose to full height, not quite reaching Mycroft, but managing to hold his ground. His drink sloshing everywhere, “Mol’ and me have been warming up for some time, how dare you come in here and think you can just call us off because you fancy her- yeah I’d noticed how you kept hovering about like some hawk. Just so you know, Molly and me have a date Saturday so you’ve missed your chance. Now get out.” Greg threw his hand triumphantly towards the door.

Mycroft merely raised an eyebrow, “I think not.” He paused eyeing the younger man. “Miss Hooper and I have been more than ‘warming up’, as you so nicely coined it, for some time. In fact, with your terminology in mind, we have certainly reached ‘boiling point.’” ‘Not an outright lie, he almost shrugged, there had been that one evening at her flat... Sherlock managed to ruin that too. Lord, he needed to stop listening to his brother. “Whatever you think Saturday was, Mr Lestrade, it certainly  _ wasn't  _ a date. Molly is simply too kind for her own good and didn’t know how-.”   
Greg raised his voice, “-Look, you smarmy bastard, I don’t care what you have to say on it, I’ll let you know how the date goes Saturday and then we’ll see who manages to ‘peak her thermostat’, now just get out!” Greg made to grab Mycroft’s arm and shove him out the small living room but unfortunately with Mycroft’s training and Greg’s drinking he was a little too slow. Mycroft evaded the swipe at his wrist by swinging it back and cracking Greg a sharp left hook to the face. The tipsy Greg staggered back and looked completely baffled, “You hit me, you bastard!” 

Just as Greg was about to charge at the suited man in his front room a voice called from the front door, “Just bloody stop it will you!” John marched in and sat Greg down on his armchair before he fell down. John glanced at Mycroft who was flexing his left hand, “Serves you right,” He mumbled checking Greg’s jaw. He offered to check his hand but Mycroft only raised an eyebrow and swiftly tucked it in his pocket. “You’ve both got a lot of apologising to do when you’re in better moods-”

“I am NOT apologising to him-”

“He charged in here accusing-”

“Shut it!” John snapped, “I didn’t mean to each other. In all of your wisdom, you left your front door open and I wasn’t the first to come here.” He gave them both a pointed looked, “She heard you both ‘dick measuring’ and bragging about how you’d get her to ‘boil’ point- honestly! You’re both  _ not normally such pigs!  _ I’d be surprised if she talks to either of you again anytime soon.” 

_Oh, bugger._


End file.
